


Iced Hell

by Ilvermere



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Ancient Magicks, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Promises, Comas - Freeform, F/M, Finally finished, Forbidden Magic, Iced Shell, Lots of rain, M/M, Magick Deaths, Mates, Original Character Death(s), Soul Magicks, Soul Stealing, Sword duels, Time Magic, Violence, and got that happy ending, and tagging, appearance altering, dragonslayers, fairies vs skeletons, i'm really terrible at cliffhangers, ice magick, magic altering, magic finally getting their shit together, maker magic battles, quite a bit of destruction, sentient magic, time travel sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-04 19:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10287200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilvermere/pseuds/Ilvermere
Summary: The spell was forbidden for a reason. His master knew that and so did he. However, when faced with a foe who seeks to command the ancient forces of magic, he finds he cannot avoid the nightmare of his past. But there are consequences for calling the energy to use that spell and not even time itself can save him.





	1. Ominous Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm baaaack~  
> Quick run! (Please don't.)  
> Thanks to all of you lovely people who read my previous work and let me know that it was passible. I have brought a new story for you! [Here's hoping I can pull it off]  
> The beginning might start off a bit slow and boring and I apologize, but I couldn't think of a great way to fix it to make it any better. Sorry :/  
> Without further ado (which means: quit yammering, Illy), here we go!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail :(

 

“Ah, I can’t wait to be home!” Lucy asked as she luxuriously stretched her arms high above her head. Fairy Tail’s Strongest Team was on the train, heading back from their latest job. Erza flashed a smile over at her comrade and nodded.

“Yes, I find I am excited as well.” Her brown eyes suddenly sparkled. “I called the bakery before we left the station for home. I now have a fresh strawberry cake waiting for me!” Lucy and Wendy glanced at each other before shaking their heads slightly in disbelief. How Erza could survive on a diet that consisted of only strawberry cake was a mystery to the entire guild. Surely strawberry cake wasn’t the best to eat at every meal? Not that anyone was stupid enough to tell her otherwise, of course.

Across on the other bench, Gray leaned against the window, half in a doze. He absently petted the pink hair of the fire Dragonslayer who was sprawled, snoozing, in his lap. The girls squealed inwardly at the sight. It had come as a shock to nearly everyone when Natsu had loudly proclaimed that he and Gray were mates in front of the entire guildhall, much to the poor ice mage’s mortification. There were exceptions, however, such as the Dragonslayers. They had already known that one of theirs had found his life-mate and were therefore unsurprised when Natsu informed (screamed out loud at) his guildmates. 

“I’m so happy for Natsu and Gray,” Wendy murmured, a small smile on her face. “A dragon’s mate completes them, and I can’t really think of two people who fit that description more.”

“That’s so romantic,” Lucy gushed quietly. It was like something out of her romance novels. She inwardly hoped that she could find her own soulmate one day.

Erza for her part was happy that her boys were happy. And that they stopped fighting was just a bonus. Plus, she won the bet the girls had going (well, she, Cana, and Mira won the bet) and got strawberry cake, which was the epitome of heaven.

Soon, the train pulled into the station and the mages got ready to disembark. Erza called softly to Gray, rousing him from his doze. Gray blinked sleepily and, when he took notice of their location, gently shook Natsu’s shoulder.

“Wake up, Flame Brain,” he mumbled, “we’re here. Let’s get off this damn train and get some real sleep.” Natsu grumbled for a bit, looking all the part of a disgruntled, sleepy dragon, before Gray’s words registered. He leapt to his feet, energy returning with a smile.

“We’re home! Let’s go, Ice Princess!” He grabbed his bag and Gray’s hand and sprinted out of the train, dragging his complaining mate behind him. As soon as the boys stepped onto the platform, they both froze. The girls, frowning at their companions’ actions, hurried out of the train and onto the platform themselves, only to be greeted by what had caused the boys to halt.

Though the sun shone brightly in the blue sky, a shiver ran down the mages’ backs. The breeze stirred up the summer heat, but not even that could warm up the chilling atmosphere. The very air seemed to still, holding its breath. Townsfolk and travellers alike bustled swiftly to their destinations without the usually friendly fanfare, trying to get to where they were headed and leave the unsettling outside. Apart from the occasional murmurs of the travellers and workers, the train station was eerily quiet.

“What—“ Lucy whispered, but Natsu interrupted, eyes narrowed.

“Something’s coming. I don’t know when or where, but something is on its way here.”

“Yeah,” Wendy murmured, her normally cheerful façade darkened and her eyes scanned the town outskirts. “I feel it too. It’s suffocating.”

Gray exchanged a look with Erza. “We’d better hurry back to the guild and inform the Master.” He spoke quietly and squeezed the fire mage’s hand when Natsu growled lowly. The Dragonslayer sniffed their air and shuddered slightly. He pulled Gray closer to him before he spoke up again.

“Let’s go,” he muttered and set off at a brisk pace, Gray at his side, and left his other teammates to catch up. At the speed with which they were moving, it didn’t take long for the returning mages to reach the guildhall.

“Do you hear that?” Wendy piped up lowly, causing the others to pause and glance at her.

“Hear what?” Lucy answered nervously. “I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the problem,” Natsu growled, “it’s dead silent.” Erza and Gray had already noticed the silence long before Wendy and Natsu confirmed it. The birds that regularly littered the trees and bathed the town in song had vanished, leaving behind the watchful silence.

“The Master must be informed.” Erza strode forward and wrenched open the guild doors without a backward glance. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

“NATSUUUU!” The Dragonslayer barely had time to brace himself before he was nearly bowled over by an excited ball of blue fluff. Keeping one hand wrapped around Gray’s, Natsu set his duffel down and held the little cat to his chest.

“Heya Happy!” Natsu chirped brightly, putting the unnerving atmosphere out of his mind for a moment.

“I missed you, Natsu!” Happy sniffled. Natsu hugged the cat tighter.

“I missed you, too, buddy!” He set the Exceed carefully on his shoulder, spitting out a mouthful of fur as Happy snaked his tail around Natsu’s face to keep balanced, before he turned back to his team. The fire mage took note that Wendy was rapidly informing Carla about what they all had sensed on their way back from the train station. “Well,” he asked when the youngest Dragonslayer stopped speaking, “shall we?” Turning, he headed for the stairs where Erza and Lucy waited.

“C’mon you guys,” Lucy wrung her hands, glancing out the windows nervously, “let’s hurry up to the Master. I don’t like the way the sky is beginning to look.” 

“Huh?” Gray interrupted, brow furrowed in confusion. “The sky?” Shifting, he peered around Natsu at the window. Sure enough, a morbid grey color was beclouding the once cheerful blue. “What? It was sunny not even two minutes ago! What the hell is powerful enough to be able to alter the weather so drastically?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Erza agreed. She turned and stomped up the stairs, the others filing after her. “I’m sure the Master must know  _something_.” She led the way down the corridor to the Master’s office, barely pausing to knock before forcing the door to open. “Please forgive us, sir, for barging in, but I’m afraid it’s urgent.” The requip mage spoke as she entered.

Makarov glanced up from the latest invoice delivered by the Magic Council. His Strongest Team filed into his office, a grim sort of air about them. “Yes?” he asked warily. By everything that was sacred, please don’t let them have destroyed another town!

“Our mission was a success.” Erza stated bluntly. “But the moment we returned we all sensed a disquieting air about the entire town.” Makarov raised a brow, perplexed. Gray picked up after Erza.

“The people are rushing through the town, they don’t want to spend time outside. The birds have vanished and it’s like the entirety of Magnolia is holding its breath, Waiting for  _something_  to happen.” The ice mage nodded towards Makarov’s office window at the ominous cloud cover. “And now a storm looks like its rearing to blow through here any minute now.”

Makarov narrowed his eyes and turned to glare at the weather. “Hm, you’re saying all of you sensed this troubling air about Magnolia?” he questioned gruffly as he turned back around. A collection of nods made him frown further. He hopped off his desk and walked over to the window, unlocking the latch and pushing the glass open.

Immediately, every occupant in the office tensed. Eight pairs of eyes scanned for threats and the duo of Dragonslayers had soft growls emerging from their throats. Makarov quickly closed the window, but the tension remained.

“Hm, I see what you mean.” Makarov mused. He crossed his arms and tapped his finger on his bicep. Ambling over to his desk and rummaging through one of the drawers, the elderly guild master pulled out a communication lacrima. “I’m going to message the other guild masters,” he informed the mages. “You all keep a wary eye out. I have a bad feeling trouble is coming our way.” Sharp eyes roamed over his brats, taking in their taut muscles and vigilant postures. His children nodded and started to leave his office when he spoke back up. “Natsu and Wendy,” two curious glances back, “go and seek out Gajeel and Laxus. See if they are sensing the same as you.” Twin nods before Makarov was alone in his office once more.

He promptly began to pump his magic into the lacrima. Fairy Tail’s Strongest Team were extraordinarily powerful mages in their own rights, which in turn made them very sensitive to magical energy and its outputs. What Makarov felt outside was nothing short of an enormous magical energy output—and an output with sinister intent. The fact that Natsu and Wendy—and most likely, Gajeel and Laxus as well—were acting in the manner they were did not bode well for the foreseeable future.

A bright flash alerted the aging guild master that the lacrima was ready. He tossed it up into the air and it split into multiple screens, the faces of the other guild masters displayed. The cheerful greetings tapered off at the seriousness of Makarov’s expression.

“My friends, I fear we may have a serious problem...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was at least somewhat interesting. If I made a mistake, please let me know!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and if you don't mind leaving me a comment to tell me what you thought or what I could do to fix it, that'd be stupendous.


	2. The Magick Chooses the Mage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here with Chapter II! 
> 
> Me and this chapter are not on speaking terms.  
> It didn't come out they way I wanted, but hey, I did my best.
> 
> Enjoy~

 

As soon as they descended the stairs, Natsu traipsed over to Gajeel, obnoxiously yelling out his name, while Wendy sought out Laxus. Gray and the girls claimed a table and hailed Mirajane over for drinks.

“What do you think is happening?” Lucy broke the silence. She faltered when the other two stared at her, but gathered her courage again. “I mean, do you guys think something’s coming? Is the town in danger?”

Gray sighed. “It’s a possibility. You felt the aura outside. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before and it makes my skin crawl.”

“Yes,” Erza agreed with a solemn nod. “I fear rough times are our future. Let’s hope we have the strength to navigate such disturbing waters." 

The arrival of Mirajane halted the conversation. The sweet Take-Over mage’s brow furrowed at the serious countenances and tense bodies of her guildmates. “Is everything all right?” she asked quietly. 

Lucy hesitated, but eventually answered. “We’re not sure. Have any of you gone outside? The town...there’s something wrong.”

Mira glanced out of one of the windows and her eyes widened at the black clouds. “When did it get so dark out? I don’t remember hearing of any storms in the forecast.” 

“Would Juvia know anything?” Gray asked. While he was not overly fond of the clingy water mage, she had an affinity for the weather like no one else. Mira shrugged. 

“Juvia is out on a mission right now. She should be back any time now.” 

The temperature rose slightly, signifying the arrival of one fire mage. Natsu slid onto the bench next to Gray and slumped onto the ice mage’s bare shoulder. He frowned for a full minute as he tried to determine what was different from before.

“Princess, where’d your shirt go?” Gray blinked, looked down, and cursed under his breath. 

“When the hell did that happen?” He muttered crossly. Natsu stifled a laugh in the pale skin of his pillow. “So, what’d you find out from Junk Brain?” Gray shifted to allow Natsu more room.

Natsu slumped even further onto his mate. “Well, it’s not just me and Wendy. Gajeel’s sure somethin’s up, too.” 

“And Laxus.” Wendy piped up as she sat down next to Lucy. “Laxus was tense and he was growling quietly. He was also sticking to Freed like glue.”

“Same with Gajeel and Levy.” Natsu rubbed his face on Gray’s shoulder. “What is going on here?” A growl rumbled in his throat.

 

* * *

 

On a hill overlooking the town of Magnolia, a man stood, his tattered cloak billowing in the breeze. Tremors wracked his lanky frame and a glint of madness danced in his pale eyes. A shift in the air made him turn to the other humans accompanying him.

“Well?” His voice was quivering with giddiness as he strode over to where the other mages congregated around an intricate magic circle. “Is it almost ready?”

One of his followers, a tan, buxom woman, narrowed her green eyes at him. “Are you certain you want to meddle with this kind of magick? It doesn’t answer to just anyone.” 

“Oh believe me, Esmeralda,” the lanky man growled, the giddiness absent now, “I am _aware_ that this magick doesn’t respond to just any sideshow mage. But I am not just _any_ mage.” 

Esmeralda pursed her lips, but knew better than to comment. Another man, of a medium height and lithe build, held no such qualms in calling out their master. “You positive you can master this shit, Descartes?” he sneered, flipping a blade in between his fingers. “’Cause, from where I’m standing, all you’re managing to do is piss it off.” 

“Leopold.” The lithe man, Leopold, shot a look at the one who had spoken. 

“Oh come on, Henrik.” He scoffed. “I don’t see why we’re wasting our time fucking with this primal magick. I for one,” his voice darkened to a sick glee, “have no need for such temperamental magics. I’m perfectly capable of doing my job with my own magic.” The implication was not lost on anyone present. 

Henrik rolled his eyes at his twin brother’s words. Really, was it too much to ask for Leopold to show an _iota_ of decorum when they were having a conversation?

“Master.” Henrik and the others’ eyes were drawn to the beautiful woman in a revealing green dress. “Why have we come to this particular town? And why Fairy Tail of all guilds?” Green eyes bore into Descartes. “Surely there must be easier targets to test your theories on?” 

A childish laugh sounded from the smallest guild member before the master could form a response. “Morgana!” The girl chided cheerfully. “Who cares about easy targets? I want to play with the pretty Fairies!” 

Descartes smiled saccharinely at his followers. “My dear Morgana,” he purred at the pale woman, “I believe you have already answered your own question. Fairy Tail mages are renown throughout Fiore as being incredibly strong. Truth be told,” he admitted with a nonchalant shrug, “I have nothing against them personally. I’ve never even met a single Fairy mage. But I thirst for more souls.” He licked his lips. The other guild members regarded his unnerving grin with an array of expressions, varying from indifferent to positively gleeful. “The more soul energy I consume, the more powerful I will become. And with more power, I can truly reign over the primeval forces of the world.”

 

* * *

 

Makarov studied the faces of his fellow guild masters. “I fear a mage or group of mages is messing around with the primordial magicks.” The spectrum of reactions ranged from shocked to confusion to outright denial. “The stirrings in the air, they reek of ill intent and I can already feel the tremors in the earth.”

“Oh my,” Bob, the master of Blue Pegasus, gasped, hands clasping his cheeks, “this’ll really put us in a pickle.”

“Are you absolutely certain about this, Makarov?” Goldmine of Quatro Cerberus drawled in his typical lackadaisical fashion. “I mean that’s a pretty serious allegation for a mere hunch.”

Makarov sighed. “No, I’m not completely certain about the primordial magick—that is only conjecture. I _am_ , however,” he added, “certain that misfortune is coming for Fairy Tail and Magnolia. And it’ll arrive soon, within the week, I expect.”

“I am beseeching your assistance. I fear that what’s to come is going to overwhelm us.” The elderly guild master could only pray that his asking for assistance would be enough to ensure that his brats got the help they were going to need.

“Oh you only had to ask Maky!” Bob exclaimed with a wink and blew a kiss in Makarov’s direction. “My Pegasai will be there to keep the tails on your cute little Fairies!”

The other guild masters, despite disagreeing on the primeval magick speculation, readily agreed to lend their guilds to help Fairy Tail in any way they could.

Makarov nodded silently and thanked the other masters. Cutting off the communication, he slumped back into his chair with a heavy sigh. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

He _knew_ , without a shadow of doubt, the primordial forces were stirring. Any powerful wizard worth their salt would be able to sense them. They flowed through the waters, swift and sure; they danced through the air, free and whimsical; they pulsed through the terrain, stalwart as the earth itself. They were the origins of all magic and they were never to be trifled with, the supreme hierarch of every type of magic in existence. 

All magic had some level of sentience, no matter the kind. The magic of a mage would protect its wielder until the bitter end, never would it willingly betray its mage.

The primordial energies held no such loyalty. They were free and wild and utterly untamable. No mage in all of history had ever managed to bring a primal magick to truly heel, not even those who had managed to use that primeval magick to cast a spell. Usually, the primal forces were content to just _be_ —exist within the life of this earth and keep the flow of magic and life steady. But now, they were becoming agitated, some fool was attempting to call them to do—what? What was the purpose for disturbing the most unpredictable and feral magic to exist?

Makarov thought back through all the times the primal energies stirred up enough to be alarmingly noticed: Zeref, of course, with his demonic abominations; Deliora and its mindless destruction; Ur Milkovich, casting Iced Shell. Makarov frowned considerably at that particular moment. He had heard from Natsu, after his foolish brats had taken that mission to Galuna Island, that Ur’s own pupil, Gray Fullbuster, nearly casted Iced Shell himself.

There was a very good reason Iced Shell was a forbidden spell that every ice user knows never to cast, unless in the absolute direst of circumstances. It calls upon the primeval force of ice—by far the most fickle and temperamental—in order to be able to turn the caster’s body and will into the ice that constructs the frozen prison. The amount of magical power the casting mage is required to contain to even _call upon_ the magick for the spell is phenomenal, and extraordinarily few possessed the ability to even be _able_ to. No primal magick allows itself to be summoned by any mere mage.

And one of his children bore the skill to access that primordial energy! The skill to cast Iced Shell—of all spells!

Makarov was torn between unalloyed pride and unmitigated horror.

The old wizard sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He knew that Gray was too intelligent and too humble to ever abuse such power. He was resolute in keeping his promise to his late master to make her proud of him—even if he will never forgive himself for her death. For another matter, Gray despised being in the spotlight. He rarely sought to take credit for the things he did for his friends and guildmates—he was content to remain the reliable support as opposed to the flashy center of attention.

No, Makarov mused, there were very few in the guild who could handle having such immense power available at their command. Though, if he were honest, he wished with all his heart that none of his precious brats possessed the ability to summon the primordial forces at all.

Fortune had never favored those who been endowed with that particular talent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all this exposition wasn't too confusing.  
> I don't plan on having another chapter this dry, so bear with me for now.  
> Things begin to pick up next chapter anyway.  
> If you spot any mistakes, just holler at me. Or leave me a comment; that works, too.
> 
> Thanks for reading and see you next time!


	3. Crawling in My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter III~  
> Things are starting to progress!  
> I have no idea how long this fic is going to be, so we'll be surprised together ^^"
> 
> Enjoy~

 

Gray froze and unfroze his drink absently as he waited for Fairy Tail’s resident Rain Woman. Normally, he would do everything in his power to actively avoid Juvia and her unwanted advances ( _still_ , even though Natsu had announced their relationship to the entire guildhall). He did feel a bit bad for allowing her to get her hopes up for so long—to be fair, however, he _had_ told her he wasn’t interested numerous times before, but he believed she just ignored him to revel in ignorant fantasies rather than face reality. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he considered her a good friend. But that’s all she was ever going to be, much to her brokenhearted sorrow.

Despite her faults, Juvia was nevertheless a talented mage and an expert on weather-related issues, hence the reason Mira had asked Gray to wait up for her. Erza and Lucy had gotten up to speak to the other guild members and warn them about the situation. Natsu and Wendy, on the other hand, had wandered off to speak to their fellow Dragonslayers in an attempt to discern just what it was they were feeling about the town’s newfound skin-crawling aura. 

 _Well_ , Gray hummed, _maybe that part is just me. I mean, no one else has even mentioned their skin crawling. Mostly they remark about how they feel like they’re being watched or followed or whatever._

Gray had no idea _why_ he felt the way he did. His magic was tingling and twitching and Gray could have _sworn_ he felt it reach out for something. An answer eluded him for the moment, so he remained with his magic itching and his skin prickling as he impatiently awaited Juvia to open the guild doors and try to fling herself into his arms. 

Fingers drumming restlessly— and now why was he so _restless_? —Gray debated the finer points of hurling snow at Natsu for the hell of it when the heavy wooden doors opened. Juvia, in all her blue, watery finery, stepped quietly into the guildhall. Her face was void of the usual content smile she wore whenever returning home from a mission. Which could only mean that she had noticed either the aura or the weather, preferably both. 

Gray extracted himself from the table and made his way over to her. Her cheeks pinked prettily as she greeted him with a shy, “Gray-sama”. 

“Hi, Juvia. I hope your mission went well?” Gray smiled at her and her cheeks darkened and the ice mage could see the hearts in her eyes. He was regretting this course of action already.

“Juvia’s mission was fine. A success! Oh, Gray-sama! Juvia is touched that you cared to ask!” The delusional water mage smiled brightly at her love. Gray nodded rapidly.

“Awesome. Listen,” he began urgently, “I’m sure you’ve noticed the weather outside, yeah?”

Immediately, Juvia’s face transitioned from fangirly to thoughtful. “Yes, Juvia wonders what is potent enough to cause such a reaction by the weather.”

“Can you try to dispel it? You might not be able to,” he reassured her when her brows furrowed in uncertainly, “but I need you to at least try.” Juvia perked up in determination when she heard her beloved Gray ask for her help.

“For Gray-sama, Juvia is willing to do anything!” She declared devotedly. Gray’s friendly smile became a little strained.

“No need to make that kind of promise! I just want you to attempt to get rid of the storm.” Gray was relieved when Juvia, albeit a little crestfallen her proclamation of devotion was not met with the response she so strongly desired, readily acceded to the request to cast her rain-dispelling charms on the storm.

The ice and water mages walked outside to the courtyard, both valiantly ignoring their uneasiness. Juvia lifted a hand towards the dark clouds and murmured, “Storm Disperse”. The magic circle for Juvia’s water appeared, mixed in with some grey for the air and wind magic needed for the spell. The pair of mages waited, but nothing happened. The circle flickered and wavered before fizzling out of existence.

“What?” Juvia gaped. “Juvia’s spell always works! Juvia is sorry Gray-sama!” She rounded on Gray with a wail, tears forming in her dark eyes. “Please forgive Juvia for her failure!”

Gray quickly brought up his hands and waved them at her. “N-no, Juvia it’s okay! L-let’s try one more time before we shed any tears, yeah?” Fuck, he hated it when girls cried. Juvia sniffled, but nodded. Please no more tears.

Holding up both hands, she summoned her spell yet again. She fought with all her might against the sinister storm, wincing as it took notice of her and returned the favor rather viciously. The water mage felt the magic of the storm slicing at her own magic, degrading it and cutting holes into it. Sweat beaded her forehead as she tried to force the storm to bend to her will and disperse.

The storm did not take kindly to her attempt at making it submit. Juvia gasped as the storm struck her magic violently. Her magic circle, one that had never failed her before, began to crack. Fractures shot across the circle until it shattered into pieces, disintegrating into harmless magical energy that vanished into the air.

Gray and Juvia stared in silent shock as the circle was forcibly destroyed. “Are you all right, Juvia?” Gray finally found his tongue and worriedly turned to his friend. “Did that hurt you?”

Juvia’s voice shook as she replied, still staring at where her magic circle vanished. “J-Juvia is fine, Gray-sama, only shocked. Although,” she added with a frown, “Juvia is also tired. That storm is no normal storm.” She turned to look at Gray, uncharacteristically serious. “It fought back. The magic used to create that storm did not want Juvia to interfere.”

 

* * *

 

“Vincenzo.” Descartes started at hearing his first name, a name only used by one. He turned to see his lovely wife glaring at him.

“Yes, Esmeralda?” He noted the defensive way she stood and tilted his head. “Is something wrong, my dear? You seem rather tense.” 

Esmeralda mentally lambasted herself for giving her discomfort away, but steeled her nerves regardless. “Vincenzo, how far are you willing to proceed with all this?” 

Descartes considered his wife. His beautiful, passionate wife. He had loved her the moment he met her and was in awe of the magic she commanded—the very magic of time itself! There could be no one else to stand by his side when he finally brought the ancient forces to submission. “I plan to see this to the very end, my love. I will not give up my life’s work! The scholar in me would surely wither and die a most pitiful death should I do so!” He spread his hands as he gazed up at the heavens. “Just imagine it, Esmeralda! Me, the humble scholar who wished to study the lost magicks, gaining the power to _command_ such unbelievable forces! It is akin to the legends of mighty heroes!”

Esmeralda watched as her husband basked in non-extant glory and her heart ached. What had happened to the sweet, bright-eyed bookworm that she fell in love with? How could he, the brilliant, far-seeing scholar, be so blind to his own corruption by the very magicks he sought to understand and control?

Her soul pulsed and she hid a wince. How romantic it had seemed so long ago, this soul bond. Now she regretted ever letting this wretched magick anywhere near her and her family.

With her husband lost in his delusions of grandeur, the former gypsy stole away. She hurried back to the tent she called her own and slipped inside. Oh, how she wanted to weep for her poor, makeshift family, and for the man she loved. But now was not the time for tears. She reached within herself and gathered the energy of the lost magick she carried. 

The dark haired woman was not fond the lost art of Time Magick. She much preferred her peaceful Plant Magic; magic that _breathed_ the joy of life rather than held the certainty of death. Nevertheless, she pulled her Time Magick into her hands and slowly began to weave the spell present in her mind.

A fail-safe; that’s what was needed. Because Esmeralda knew that, despite the bond of marriage and love she held with Vincenzo Descartes, she was just as vulnerable to his warped reasonings and wicked magick as anyone else. So she wove and braided and curled and created the fail-safe that would protect her.

She peered at the completed spell in consideration before picking up the surplus strands of magical energy and began a new, more complex pattern. She would also protect her guildmates because yes, they were dysfunctional and atypical, but they were _her_ _family_. So she deftly interwove the names of their magical signatures into the fail-safe and sat back when she had finished, panting slightly from the strain.

A gleaming, brilliant magickal circle hovered before her, far more complicated and intricate than anything she had ever created previously. Esmeralda added stipulations and constraints in order for the spell to work without her needing to supply a continuous stream of magick. Satisfied she hadn’t missed any concerns, she banished the circle, carefully inserting it into her magickal repertoire for later use. The former gypsy swore she would get through to her husband before the fail-safe was ever needed. Perhaps, when all was said and done, she would be able to get him to return to the man he once was.

She didn’t address, even to herself, why she had left her husband out of her fail-safe.

She refused to wonder why she felt no remorse either.

 

* * *

 

Midnight eyes scanned the crowded guildhall. Rare was it for the Master to summon all of his mages at once and trepidation permeated the air when the present mages took note of the old man’s grave visage. The ice mage leaned back against the table where he was seated, unyielding steel and sweltering heat bracketing him on either side. A cacophony of mutterings echoed around the spacious hall.

“My children, I have gathered you on the account of the aura that plagues our town.” Makarov’s voice silenced the din, each person focusing with rapt attention on their guild master. “No doubt all of you are aware of the storm that has darkened the sky as well. I called you here to issue words of warning,” his eyes bore into every one of his brats. “No one is to venture out alone. No one is to try to confront what menace is coming our way in some foolhardy attempt at bravery. We shall face the future together and we shall stand tall and proud _together_.” He glared particularly at certain mages. “Furthermore,” he continued, “do not underestimate what is to come. Whatever foe we are to fight has already agitated forces beyond the control of all of us here.” The aging wizard refused to look towards his only ice mage. “So take heed and listen to my words, brats. Stand together and we will claim victory.”

The surrounding mages let out a deafening, defiant cheer.

Gray remained silent; he had barely heard any of Makarov’s speech, so fixated was he on his magic. It itched; itched to the point where Gray had to forcibly stop himself from scratching his flesh. What was worse, Natsu had to grab his hand to prevent him from scratching. The ice mage had no clue as to why his magic was acting so erratically. At times, it danced under his fingertips, as if responding to the call of... _something_. And when it wasn’t tingling through his veins, it was itching like mad.

Coupled with the fact that there was an insistent tugging on his magic container and a ringing in his ears, Gray was strung taut and about ready to snap. Natsu, the dear, doting dragon that he was, tried not to overwhelm his stressed mate, but couldn’t stop himself from occasionally brushing up against him, reassuring his snowflake that he was there to help.

The fire mage’s unobtrusive affection finally paid off. Gray, wishing for a bit of relief from his troublesome magic, leaned heavily against Natsu and soaked up his warmth.

“What’s wrong?” Natsu nuzzled Gray’s hair, inhaling the scent of winter and pine. “You’re tense and you keep scratching yourself. You’ll make yourself bleed if you keep doing that.”

“That’s the problem!” Gray sighed. He twitched as his magic thrummed; at least it wasn’t itching for the time being. “I have no idea what’s wrong. My magic is losing its mind. At first, its happy, like when you meet an old friend. Then it itches like mad, like it’s trying to escape through my skin.” 

Natsu frowned. He peeked inward and consulted his own magic, wondering if his felt the same way. The red Dragon that personified his magic huffed at Natsu’s inquiry and reached out to Gray’s magic instead. That icy signature, usually so comforting in its cool tranquility, was vibrating within the ice mage’s core. It greeted the Dragon warm enough, wrapping around it in a loving hug, before darting away and banging at the walls of its container. When the Dragon remarked about its restlessness and hyperactivity, the icy magic simply gestured to the walls, gesticulating wildly about needing to meet something again and not being able to whilst trapped inside its home. 

The Dragon snorted when the icy magic returned its concentration to surging around the container, skimming along the wall and leaving a trail of ice. The red beast stomped back to its host and curled up in a jealous heap, growling at the fact that something else had taken its ice’s attention so completely.

Natsu glanced down at his mate when his magic informed him, rather grouchily mind you, that the ice mage’s magic was trying to stage a jailbreak all by itself. It was testament to how distracted Gray was that he didn’t even notice Natsu’s magic and his corresponding. 

The encounter with Gray’s magic was odd, to say the least. Usually, the icy signature was as calm and collected as its host. It was considerate, as well, to Gray, and rarely tried to cause its host discomfort. To see it acting in the manner it was and utterly disregarding the distress it was provoking in Gray, was alarming. Natsu knew that Gray’s magic adored him; it loved the way that Gray worked so hard to make his creations as precise and strong and beautiful as possible.

So why was it behaving so out of character? And just what was it trying to reach outside of Gray’s core?

Natsu planned to solve that mystery before any harm could befall his mate. Speaking of, Natsu ran his fingers soothingly through Gray’s black locks when the pale-skinned mage shuddered and pressed himself closer to the burning Dragonslayer. 

“Relax, Gray.” Natsu murmured. “Maybe you should try to sleep?” Gray hummed thoughtfully at the suggestion. 

“Yeah,” he replied softly, “maybe.” He prayed his magic would give him respite to at least catnap. The ice mage closed his eyes and forced himself to unwind his muscles. The comfort of Natsu’s heat and his magic curling around him lulled Gray into a doze. 

Natsu sighed quietly as he felt Gray sag into his arms. Tan fingers smoothed out the crease on the slumbering male’s forehead. A clinking of metal dragged the fire mage’s attention away from his mate and onto the redhead beside them. 

“Is he all right?’ Erza asked lowly. “He was fidgeting so much during Master Makarov’s speech—that’s really unlike him.” Her brown eyes narrowed as they bore into the Dragonslayer’s. “What’s going on, Natsu? What’s wrong with Gray?”

The Dragonslayer rubbed his face tiredly. “I don’t know, Erza,” he answered finally. “His magic’s actin’ weird and it’s really bothering him. You noticed his scratching, I take it?” Erza nodded slowly. “Whatever is fuckin’ with the town is fuckin’ with Gray’s magic,” the Dragonslayer’s eyes darkened and he bared pointed teeth. “I want to beat the shit out of the thing messing with— _hurting_ —Gray, but so far, there isn’t anything for me to fight! Damn it!” The growl escaped a tan throat and scarlet sparks danced along a clenched fist.

Erza regarded her teammate warily. Sure, Natsu getting worked up over Gray’s wellbeing was the norm, especially nowadays, but it was still surprising to see him wanting to get truly _violent_ when Gray’s health was on the line. (Though tiny piece of her was fawning over the amount of love Natsu displayed in his protective behavior towards Gray).

The requip mage turned to the snoozing ice mage. Even in sleep, he was restless; twitching, shuddering, and periodically scraping at his skin, leaving red marks that stood stark against his pale complexion.

Without warning, the air shifted. Gray gasped and shivered, his magic leaping out and coating him in a layer of permafrost. Natsu hissed as the cold crystals came in contact with his searing skin and melted, a small cloud of steam rising. Erza reached forward to assist when the doors of the guild were flung open by a vicious gust of wind. Thunder rumbled and the scent of an oncoming rainstorm permeated the hall.

“It’s coming,” Erza whipped her head around to see Wendy staring, transfixed, at the storm. The little sky Dragon wasn’t the only one, however; all of the Dragonslayers were glaring at the storm, clutching the people they cared for most as close as possible to them. Erza could distinctly hear Natsu snarling quietly as he practically crushed Gray to his chest, said ice mage blinking blearily yet awake.

Gray watched from Natsu’s arms as the guild sprang into action. Makarov sent Jet to scout out the town and see if he could find anything that spoke of an attack. He then called Bisca, Alzack, Reedus, and Nab to be ready in case an evacuation of the town was required.

Gray watched his guildmates with a strange sense of detachment. His magic pulsed and hummed, trying to reach out yet not wanting to abandon its host. This storm reeking of _them_ , forming as a response to their turmoil. And it could hear _them_ ; the ancient ones, whom it had met before. They were upset and called to it to help them make things right again. The icy signature strained in its container and Gray winced. He knew something was reaching for him, for his _magic_ , and he wasn’t certain he wanted to find out what that something wanted him for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. Drop me a comment and tell me what you thought!  
> If I made any mistakes, please let me know.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. And the City Held Its Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter IV!  
> Sorry for the long wait, but I'm afraid that'll probably happen quite a bit, so please bear with me.  
> So this chapter is kind of weird, but I was (for some reason) fixated to have it like this, so if it's terrible I apologize in advance. ^^"
> 
> Here you go!

 

There’s a funny thing about waiting; it’s quite the chameleon yet no one really gives it much credit in that regard.

Of course, there’s the usual characters of waiting; the types that are most recognized. The mundane waiting: waiting in line at a store, waiting for your food to finish cooking. The good waiting: waiting for a friend’s arrival, waiting for an acceptance letter to a University. The bad waiting: waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for a doctor’s diagnosis. Waiting comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors, but no one is really fond of it in the first place. 

Could that be because waiting can occasionally be likened to misery? At least misery, however, is magnanimous enough to appreciate company.

Though, I suppose the same can be said about waiting. It often extends the hand of companionship to stress and anxiety; and though unwelcome they may be, the offer is still, in itself, a considerate enough gesture. 

Yet waiting is not all misery and woe. Sometimes waiting can be gracious, even if we don’t see it. After all, isn’t the phrase “all good things come to those who wait”? Right there, waiting gives you the virtue of patience; that’s quite a generous gift in and of itself.

Waiting can make you realize just who is important to you. Who you know that you can never live without. It gives you the chance to pause and see and understand that there are people who, despite their numerous flaws, mean the world to you and you to them.

 

* * *

 

Esmeralda emerged from her tent and breathed in deep. Gooseflesh snaked its way across her skin as she sensed the fluctuating magickal energies in the air. Thunder rumbled within the blackened clouds.

So. It would seem that her husband’s meddling with soul magick had stirred up the primal forces and agitated them to the point that nature responded the most appropriate way that it could. It was times like this that Esmeralda wanted to forgo the love she carried for her husband and strangle the life out of the fool. 

Soul magick intruded on the delicate balance of mind and soul. There was a reason the magick was _forbidden_. Outlawed. Banned. Taboo to the point that nearly every available mage in history attempted to destroy all evidence of its practice.

Yet, _of course_ , her genius and insatiably curious lover had to not only _find_ the forbidden magick, but _learn_ enough to tread on the grounds of the powers that be. She couldn’t stop the fondness that lingered when she though of how her husband used to be. 

Damn it. She would save him.

“You know, I thought we broke you of your brooding habit.” Esmeralda startled at the sultry voice and looked up to see the curvaceous figure of Morgana sauntering up to her. “It really is very unhealthy.”

Esmeralda huffed. “No more unhealthy than flirting with everything that walks on two legs.” But she smiled at her best friend. 

Morgana only gave a seductive smirk. “Oh Esie,” she purred, green eyes dancing with mirth, “that’s only for my own amusement. People get so flustered!”

“Yes they do,” Esmeralda snorted, “because how else are you supposed to react when Ms. Sex-On-Legs gives you her attention? They are probably expecting you to fuck them then and there, Roruk!”

Morgana laughed delightedly. “As fun as that sounds, exhibitionism is not one of my kinks, Greenwine.” She laughed once more when her friend gave her a dubious look. “It’s not! Not on the first date anyway,” she admitted at last. Esmeralda cheered quietly at the admission. 

“I knew you were, you kinky freak.” She smiled smugly at Morgana, to which the redhead only shrugged daintily. The two women proceeded to walk back to the center of their temporary camp.

“What’s on your mind, Esie?” Morgana asked softly. “I usually don’t catch that kind of look on your face. So what’s wrong?” 

Esmeralda sighed heavily. “What isn’t wrong? First my husband dabbles too far into a dangerous magick; then he makes all these plans to attack people who have done absolutely nothing to us; and now we have made the very forces of magic furious! How can anything _not_ be wrong at this point?”

Morgana studied her friend carefully. “I can understand your feelings,” she said finally, “and you are right; things don’t appear to be optimal at the moment. But what can we do?” She turned to face ahead at the shadowed trees surrounding them. “None of us have the power to soothe the ancient magicks, not even your love,” she put in when Esmeralda opened her mouth to protest, “and you know it.”

Esmeralda closed her mouth; she did know that Vincenzo could not command the primeval forces. She has tried on numerous occasions to inform him of that, but in his warped mind, he had refused to listen time and time again.

“I am aware of that, Morgs.” Green eyes searched the canopy to glimpse the clouded sky. “ _Gods_ am I aware of that. Every time he has me work on that accursed sigil I am aware of that. I can feel them in the air; they are so _angry_ , Morgs. And I’m afraid of what will happen when they finally have enough of our meddling.”

“Well, Esie,” Morgana reached out to grasp Esmeralda’s elbow, halting her friend in her tracks, “whatever happens, you know we’ll stand by you. We _do_ owe you; after all, none of us would even be here if it weren’t for you and the Master.” 

Esmeralda whirled on her friend, green eyes flashing. “You don’t owe us _anything_. We took all of you in—“

“Because we had nowhere else to go.” Morgana interrupted. “Or the only place we were going to go was six feet under.” She plowed on before the former gypsy could speak. “I mean it, Esie. Don’t sell us so short.” 

They reached the camp where the other members of the Gypsy’s Hoard congregated around the firepit. Esmeralda examined her family: Henrik Orlov was excitedly babbling a point in his research to his twin brother, the only time Leopold’s face softened to something more human than his usual sadistic glee; Mellie Aglar was braiding a crown of flowers and, when finished, presented it with a beaming smile to Ullrych Fauliner, his resigned fondness a welcome change from his usual indifferent stoicism. Vincenzo was missing in action—no surprise there, he rarely joined the people he ordered around. Finally, the former gypsy flicked her gaze to the last member of the guild, Morgana Roruk; who was watching her with a small smile.

“Are you seeing, Esie?” Esmeralda frowned at the inquiry. What was she supposed to be seeing?

Morgana sighed in exasperation before slinging an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Esmeralda Greenwine, open your eyes and  _look._ Look at your guild. Can you picture a more abnormal group of people?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being abnormal!” Esmeralda interjected hotly. “That doesn’t make us any less of a family." 

An indulgent smirk made Esmeralda scowl at the damn woman. “Yes, we are family. But do you even realize why?” At the blank look she received, Morgana wanted to shake some sense into the stupid idiot she called her best friend. “Esie.” Green eyes bore into green eyes as she tried to drive the point home. “You and the Master saved us from ourselves. Ullrych,” she gestured to the imposing, dark skinned man, “was trying to drown his trauma from the war in alcohol and self-loathing and nearly killed himself by it. You both stepped in to give him what he needed: a chance to atone. Mellie,” a jerk of a delicate hand to the small girl, “had no one when her foster mother abandoned her. She was all alone until you and the Master; and yes, she still longs for Terraphina, but now she’s got you and the Master and Ullrych to drive that emptiness away.”

Morgana took a deep breath and continued her oration, noting with satisfaction the speechless expression on Esmeralda’s face. “Henrik and Leopold grew up on the streets for years with no one but themselves to count on. Leopold turned to killing in order to protect his brother; Henrik vowed to go to school and get a well-paying job in order for Leopold to have a home to return to. _You_ gave them that home and though Leopold takes a little too much joy in his assassination contracts, I know he is happy that his brother is safe and can ramble on and on about some new magic technique or whatever.”

“And me,” Morgana’s voice softened, “I was nothing but a worthless orphan who was forced into prostitution. I faced beatings and sexual assault every day. And I killed the damn clients who dared to hurt my coworkers. And that day you and the Master arrived, you saved me from a fate I don’t even want to imagine.” She brought up her hands to cradle Esmeralda’s tear-stained cheeks. “Oh, Esie, after all that you and the Master have done for us, did you really believe that we wouldn’t do anything for you both?” 

Esmeralda couldn’t meet her best friend’s eyes any longer. She had no idea. “That kind of devotion will get you killed,” she whispered. Morgana gently released her friend in order to smooth out her dress.

“Maybe, but we’ll worry about that when the time comes. And don’t you fret about your dearest heart,” she added, “we’ll smack him back to his senses. He’ll soon be the man who used blush so brightly at my flirting; yelling at me that he was a married man and to stay away while waving his wedding ring around like a banishing talisman.” 

Esmeralda snorted at that memory, one she kept close to her heart. The former gypsy watched Morgana as she strolled over to the fire and plopped gracefully down next to Henrik, frightening the poor man out of his wits and making a decidedly red flush creep along his face. 

 _Hopefully before anything worse happens_ , Esmeralda thought, walking over to join the rest of her family.

 

* * *

 

Waiting can be thoughtful.

It can give you time to second guess yourself; time for you to think and time for you to figure out if the path you take is truly the road you wish to walk. 

It can also give you time to convince yourself that what you do is necessary. Waiting is thoughtful enough to reassure you that what you do is your choice; and yet, waiting will never judge if your choice is right or wrong. It will simply allow you the time to decide that for yourself should you choose to do so.

 

* * *

 

Vincenzo stared down at the sigil drawn by his wife. If everything went according to plan, he would soon be the master of the primordial magicks! He was practically salivating at the mere thought.

Of course he needed more power in order to activate the sigil. But that was what he was here for. He smirked to himself as he imagined the look on the faces of those pitiful Fairies as he sucked the energy out of their very souls. It was too bad he couldn’t consume the souls themselves instead of just stealing their energy...

A thoughtful frown passed his lips. _Could_ he consume actual souls? He had never tried, but maybe this was the time to test that theory.

 _No!_ a tiny piece of himself screamed and Vincenzo faltered. _How could I even consider something so horrific?_

Vincenzo Descartes, for the first time in a while, felt himself wavering in his convictions. Could he really go through with his atrocious plans? On people he’d never even _met_?

Of course he could, a saccharine whisper in his mind. His magick curled around him. You need souls to be powerful, his magick insisted. And you said yourself, you’ve never even met these people, so why should these people _matter_? Isn’t harnessing the powers of the primal energies more important than some worthless Fairies? 

 _No—how can I—I promised Esmeralda I would never hurt others with my magick!_  

But promises are meant to be broken aren’t they? And what your wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And you wanted to give her the world, didn’t you? 

 _I—yes. I did. She deserves everything I can possibly give her._  

Then wouldn’t sacrificing a few little Fairies be the most painless way? All you need are a few souls to be able to harness the magick of the ancients.

_That’s all I need to do?_

Yes. Isn’t it so simple? No need to worry about anything. 

Vincenzo grinned, a glint of insanity gleaming in his pale eyes. His magick returned to his core, satisfied that it had convinced its host to continue with its plan.

Soon, it will have all the souls it could ever desire.

 

* * *

 

Waiting can be rewarding. 

It can finally have its fill and step aside, allowing you to proceed with your course of action. Of course, waiting will thank you for entertaining its whims and lead you right to where you want to go.

 

* * *

 

The members of the Gypsy’s Hoard glanced up in tandem as footsteps echoed around the clearing. Their reclusive guild master paused when he reached the firepit.

“My friends, I believe we have kept the good citizens of Magnolia and the little Fairies waiting for long enough, hm? It is time we set our plans into motion.” 

“Finally,” Leopold muttered, standing and stretching, “I was growing old just sitting here.”

“Yeah!” Mellie cheered exuberantly. “Let’s go play with the Fairies. C’mon Ully!” She grabbed the stoic man’s hand and began to drag him—with marginal success—towards the slumbering town. Ullrych stopped the little hellion. 

“Mellie. Calm down and be patient. Wait for our instructions before you go scampering off.” The dark skinned man scolded in his deep voice.

“But I don’t wanna waaaaait,” Mellie whined, but eventually complied reluctantly. 

“Ah, Ullrych.” Vincenzo purred, eyes sparkling. “I trust you can handle your part easily enough?” At the man’s indifferent nod, Vincenzo clapped his hands together in delight. “Wonderful!” 

“Now,” he cackled, “we mustn’t keep dawdling! It’s impolite to keep people waiting!” He turned to the town, his guild gathering behind him. “Time is of the essence. Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

The funny thing about waiting is its ability to take up your entire consciousness.

It simultaneously makes you breathe and steals your breath.

It invades every thought until you can think of nothing else but how long you have to wait.

But waiting can be cruel.

It allows hope to fester, that parasitic contagion. Waiting allows hope to breed until it makes you _believe_ that you can survive anything thrown at you.

It blinds you to the grim reality. It whispers false promises of hope and light, camouflaging the truth.

Waiting conceals, to its dark, eternal amusement, how hopeless your situation is.

It hides how doomed you really are. And in the end, waiting is the one who will have the last laugh.

 

* * *

 

Jet raced through the town, a mere blur. Reaching the outskirts, he slowed to a halt. His magic twisted and flared and he tried his best to soothe it. Jet could feel its uneasiness, how it wanted him to just turn around and run away from whatever was coming to Magnolia.

The city held its breath; locked in a dance of waiting.

Jet wished that whatever was coming would just _get here_ already. Anything to cease this infernal _waiting_. His nerves were jittery enough.

Thunder rumbled in the clouded sky and the first drops of rain began to fall. Jet’s speed magic strained in its container; something was wrong, something felt _wrong_. Why was Jet still standing there? Get away!

The bells of Kardia Cathedral tolled, an eerie, echoing death knell. Through the rapidly falling drops, Jet could just barely make out movement in the forest. Tall warriors of bone emerged from the trees and Jet paled. What looked like an entire army slowed marched from the cover of the forest and headed straight for Magnolia, the sickening grins on their faces sending chills down the mage’s spine.

Jet didn’t need anyone to tell him to get the hell out of dodge. At his magic’s urging, he sped through the city, his speed magic pumping more energy to make him faster. Inwardly, Jet was cursing himself about not being careful about what he wished for.

He barged into the guildhall, startling the already wired mages. Jet yelped and leapt back as bursts of magic struck where he had stood only moments before. Sending a glare at the sheepish guilty, he turned to the guild master. 

“Master Makarov! An army is here! They’ve probably reached the town by now!” Makarov narrowed his eyes and nodded sharply.

“Bisca, Alzack, Reedus, Nab!” The elderly mage turned to his selected brats. “Go and begin an evacuation of the town! Get everyone out! Now!” The mages saluted before tearing out of the guildhall.

“Brace yourselves, my children,” Makarov locked eyes with each one, “this battle may be the hardest we’ve ever fought. Be strong, fight together, and we may yet see the sunrise tomorrow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be action next chapter. I won't let myself not have any.  
> All mistakes are mine, but if you spot any glaring errors, let me know!  
> And drop me a comment to tell me what you thought!
> 
> I have a lot of exams and papers due in the next two weeks, so I don't know when I'll have time to write, let alone update. Please stick with me and I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can!
> 
> Thanks for reading~


	5. Besieged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ladies and gentlemen! Chapter V here!  
> So I managed to sneak this chapter in between my exams and my research papers cause I needed a little break from school.  
> (No, this update is not an April Fool's joke. I'm not THAT mean)  
> Just as a forewarning: I cannot write battle scenes. I am so sorry in advance ^^"  
> I also apologize if it feels a bit disjointed. As I stated above, I can't write these kinds of scenes well :/
> 
> Any and all mistakes are mine. Please enjoy~

 

What awaited the Fairy Tail mages made them gawp in disbelief and steel their nerves. An army of skeletons stood in a haphazard display of rows. The army of bones stood stock still, staring with empty eye sockets at the collection of Fairies.

No two skeleton were the same. Some stood lopsided, others straight; some were tall, others short; some were damaged due to what could only be years of decay; others looked as if they only perished yesterday, all sun bleached. Scrapes and scratches littered the bony army and dirt streaked them in places. And the skeletons weren’t limited to humans, either. Reanimated animals slunk out of the woods and prowled among the soldiers, that cringing hiss/rattle ripping from their gaping maws.

“Wh-what kind of magic is this?” Lucy gasped, her fingers tightening on her key ring.

“Bone Magic.” Makarov answered. “An unusual realm of study, but not unheard of. However,” he added with a frown as his eyes roamed the waiting bones, “I’ve never seen any Bone Mage capable of this kind of feat.”

“I daresay you wouldn’t, Fairy.” A sneering chirp made the present mages tense for battle. “I do believe that this is something of an original work, you might say.”

A man slipped out from the trees. He was tall and lanky, with long black hair tied in a low ponytail. A light grey eye danced with madness, whilst a jagged red scar seared down the right side of his face, slicing across his eye, leaving it white and vacant. A sleek black suit and blood red tie covered his tan skin; a tattered dark grey cloak undulating in the breeze.

The man’s grin widened when he saw the gathered Fairies ready for battle. This will surely be fun. His magic stirred up, alert, and he regarded it curiously. Someone here was unsettling, hm? Well, that would certainly be a thing to look out for.

“Who are you?” Makarov demanded. An expression of mock despair flickered onto his face.

“Oh, dear,” he simpered, “I really have forgotten my manners.” A grand, sweeping bow. “I am Vincenzo Descartes, Master of the Gypsy’s Hoard!” A long arm gestured to his side where six new figures melted out from the forest.

The first woman was of average height and tan skin. Her voluptuous form was neatly tucked into a dark blue, knee length summer dress festooned with purple flowers. Her long, curly black hair was pulled back with a violet sash adorned with little gold stars. Knee-high, black, lace-up sandals fastened over strong legs. Green eyes, carefully devoid of emotion, scrutinized the Fairy Tail mages.

A tall, bald, dark skinned man stood next to her. His face was as expressionless as his dark eyes. A white tank top, stark against his dark skin and the overall gloom, stretched across his muscular frame and black trousers tucked into combat boots. Dark fingerless gloves were pulled over his calloused hands and a rope necklace with a metal infinity knot wrapped around his neck.

Next to the man, a small girl, no more than Wendy’s age, bounced where she stood. Her mousy brown hair had some tied back with a bright red bow. A ruffled blue shirt was covered with bright red overalls and she had frilly white socks and shiny black shoes. Blue eyes sparkled with excitement and her energetic wriggling jingled the dragon bracelet on her tiny wrist.

A man of medium height slouched near the little girl. Lithe, pale, brown haired and eyed, a slight smattering of facial hair. His agile frame covered in leather pants, a black shirt, and black leather jacket and combat boots. A chain necklace shifted and fully revealed the tattoo of a hissing snake on his neck. The belt of knives complimented his spiked gauntlets.

The next man could only be his twin, having the same looks and body shape. However, his style was much more reserved than his twin brother’s. A vest over a white collared shirt and brown trousers tucked into sensible shoes. A pendant of an eagle hung from his neck and a gold pocket watch slipped into a front vest pocket.

The final member of the guild stood tall and proud. Fiery red hair pulled back into an elegant up-do, a little piece framing her beautiful face. Her curvaceous figure displayed in a low cut, fitted green dress. White fur lined the collar of the dress and the front was slit, showing the short underskirt, for easier maneuverability. Knee high, heeled, brown boots covered her long legs and added to her seductive appeal. A fan with a peacock image and small feathers lining the top was held in her hand. 

The two guilds studied each other silently.

“Why are you here?” Makarov glared at Descartes. “Why are you attacking us this way? I don’t believe we have even met before.”

Descartes laughed. “Oh we _haven’t_ met. Not once. We are here because I wanted to perform a little experiment and you and you little Fairies are the perfect candidates with which to conduct research!” A sickening grin at the assembled Fairy Tail mages sent them all bristling. “It really is nothing personal, my dear wizard,” the man went on, “it’s just what you do for the things you are passionate about.” He clasped a hand over his heart dramatically.

“If you think you can take us down easily, you will be sadly mistaken.” Makarov felt his magic rise to his hands in order to defend his brats. We won’t let this man hurt them.

“Oh,” Descartes eyes glinted, “I _know_ you won’t be taken down so easily. That’s why I had Ullrych summon his forces.” He waved a hand at the silent army. “And why,” his eyes darkened as a dark grey magick swirled at his hands, “I’m playing this card.”

At once, his magick surged and shot out. Shapeless, wailing forms were conjured into existence and hovered around all present. Thunder boomed across the sky and the rain shuddered as it fell, the droplets almost aiming to hit the shades intentionally.

“Let me introduce you to my shades. Of course, they are not as refined as those who use true Shade Magic, but I find they get the job done quite nicely anyways.”

 

* * *

 

Sweat beaded his forehead as he struggled to reign in his magic. Gray had no idea what had set it off—maybe it was this rain? It stung and steamed whenever it splashed on his skin—but he had an inkling that it was this unnerving mage in front of them. His magic had nearly _screamed_ when the man summoned his own magick. It had slammed against its container and roared and strained towards the power Gray could sense in the sky.

The heat radiating from Natsu was a balm for his fragile nerves. The ice mage heard his mate’s low growls and felt the thrum of his Dragon magic pressing up against his cold skin protectively. Out of the corner of his eye, Gajeel was hovering near Levy, half shielding her from this burning rain and the suffocating presence of magick. Not far beyond them, Laxus was practically attached to Freed, openly glaring and baring his teeth at the enemy guild master, sparks arcing just under his skin. The breeze rustled violently and Gray knew that Wendy, too, was struggling to keep her magic under control.

Gray knew the feeling; his own magic skipped through his veins and itched in his blood. Combined with the rain and those deafening shades, Gray was sure his magic would just shatter its container and leave him behind without a second thought. It certainly did have somewhere in mind to go.

A flash of shame and guilt prickled Gray’s skin as his magic tried to calm itself down. Gray tried to reassure it that he wasn’t blaming it—that he knew it couldn’t help it—but appreciated its attempts at chilling out nonetheless. It quietly rose up to wrap around his frame in an insubstantial hug, quivering madly all the while.

A sharp jab into his side had him peering into concerned, dark eyes. 

“I’m okay,” he murmured to Natsu, who looked at him dubiously, but thankfully didn’t push. Gray returned his focus back on Makarov and the other guild master—Damacruez? Disparity? Dezcartey? Whatever.

As the enemy guild master—Descartes!—screamed for his army to attack Gray had only one thought:

_I hope my magic will cooperate long enough to protect Natsu and my friends._

 

* * *

 

“Now my lovely shades and warriors,” Descartes sing-songed before his eyes darkened with a gleam of malice, “attack! Spare no mercy for these little Fairies! I want to see them in _agony_!” 

The shades screeched and wailed as they rose up and descended upon the Fairy Tail mages.

“Fight! And do not surrender!” Makarov shouted at his children, gathering his eager magic and launching it at Descartes, who lazily summoned a rippling shield to block the attack. The vile mage’s form suddenly shimmered and he vanished from sight, cackling all the while.

The other guild members of the Gypsy’s Hoard sprang into action.

Erza requipped into her Heaven’s Wheel armor just as the leather-clad man darted in front of her. A quick flash of magic, and he held a wicked-looking mace in his hands.

Erza narrowed her eyes. “You use requip magic. Who are you?’ she demanded, settling herself into a fighting stance.

“The name’s Leopold,” the man drawled, flexing the mace in his fingers. “Now are we here to talk or fight?” Without waiting for an answer, the man lunged himself at her. 

It was only Erza’s quick reflexes that saved her from a nasty blow to the head. A shower of sparks rained down from the clashing of metals. Another swing; another block. Thrust; dodge; strike. Erza summoned her wheel of swords as fast as she could.

“Circle Sword!” She cried and the swords obeyed the words of their mistress, striking out at Leopold with a heavenly vengeance. The swords sailed unwaveringly through the air, each vowing to their mage that they would do their damnedest to hit this foe. Leopold grimaced and readied his muscles. Raising his mace, he dodged the first sword and smacked away the second. On and on, an amazing display of dexterity until the final sword was knocked off target, sinking into the muddy terrain with a squelch. Not wasting a moment, Leopold ran towards Erza, banishing his mace and summoning a scimitar in less than a second. A rapid series of strikes and blocks until both mages leapt back.

Leopold exchanged his scimitar for a pair of katanas. Erza switched out of her Heaven’s Wheel and into another set. Bandages wrapping her chest and cloth pants complete with twin katanas, Erza faced her opponent. A moment’s pause and the foes lashed out.

A flurry of thrusts and parries lead to a dangerous dance across the battlefield; neither mage giving ground nor gaining any. Sparks lit the air as the blades clashed and the smell of iron began to become noticeable over the scent of rain. The foes traded lighting fast blows, the air rippling around them as the magical energy output rose. Another crash of metal and they came to a dead stop.

Both mages were panting heavily and neither was free of lacerations. “I’m impressed,” Leopold gasped breathlessly, an approving look in his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who is able to keep up with me. Perhaps I’ve found a worthy opponent after all.”

Erza glared harshly at him, freeing her blades and readying herself once more. “Enough talk. You say you are here to harm my guildmates. I will not let you.” Her heel dug into the earth and she threw herself at her opponent, catching his blades on hers. 

The sound of clashing swords began the deadly duel anew.

Leopold ducked under one of Erza’s blades and swung low in retaliation. Erza leapt neatly over her foe’s weapon before she feinted to the left. Leopold blocked her incoming sword and swiped again at her legs. Erza thrust at his torso. The female mage hissed as one of Leopold’s katanas gouged into her thigh. Leopold grimaced as he felt a deep slice on his arm. They sprang apart.

Leopold gathered his magic. “Requip: Sonic Spurs!” He snarled and there was a bright flash that lasted a millisecond. His combat boots were replaced with sleek, black, knee-high boots. Silver spurs attached to the heels glowed and pulsed in time with his magic. Twin knives had replaced his katanas. Leopold tapped his toe on the ground before digging his heel into the mud. The spinning spurs were a blur of silver as he pushed off the mud and _ran_. Erza’s eyes widened as her opponent vanished before blurring into existence right in front of her. She barely brought up a katana in time to meet his knives.

Leopold blurred out of sight and struck again. Once more, Erza barely defended herself. Leaping back away from her foe, she called her magic to her side.

“Requip: Flight Armor!” Immediately, her cloth pants vanished, replaced with purple tights, silver boots, a half-skirt, a white tail and collar, black undershorts. Armored, cheetah-printed bra, vambrace, knee and shoulder guards, and ears completed the armor. She flexed her arm holding her sword and launched herself at her opponent. Her form blurred out of existence, only to reappear right in front of Leopold and slash at him. 

The leather-clad man snarled silently and activated his spurs again, Erza treading on his heels. The mages vanished then clashed, vanished then clashed, their speed and strikes perfectly matched. Magic pulsed and air shot out from the resounding _clang_ of the blades, each opponent forced to a full stop, weapons locked, panting heavily.

“Well,” Leopold drawled, eyes gleaming, “what’s say you to a wager, Fairy?” He grinned at Erza’s irritated glare. “A challenge between requip mages. I win, I claim your best sword. You win, you get mine. Deal?” 

Erza usually never bet her weapons on anything. She had too much pride in her collection to ever want to part from any of them. But her magic surged about, jittery with excitement at the prospect of such a duel. We can win, it insisted. We have finally met our match, our _equal_! Let’s show them who is the best requip mage out there!

The Fairy Tail mage braced herself against the force of Leopold’s strength as he pushed against their interlocked weapons. “Well?” he asked, brow raised. “Are you going to grow a pair and accept a rightful challenge? Or will you remain the spineless wench that you are?” The sneer on his face sent her blood boiling. 

We can defeat him, her magic danced across her skin. Erza’s mind was made up. “I accept your challenge, Leopold.”

 

* * *

 

Gray hated the fact that he was separated from Natsu. His missed his comforting warmth and his overall presence. The ice mage shivered as his magic jumped inside him again. It hadn’t relented since the storm broke and Gray was truly becoming afraid that he wouldn’t be able to fight.

Suddenly, the his battle senses tingled and he dodged neatly to the side as a cutting blade of wind sliced the place where he had just be standing. Gray looked in the direction of the magic and saw one of the twin mages.

The man was adjusting the cuff of his shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows before he acknowledged the ice mage. “Hello. I am Henrik Orlov. May I enquire your name?”

Gray raised a brow, but shrugged all the same. “Gray Fullbuster.”

A spark in his brown eyes. “The Ice-Make Mage?”

Gray frowned in bemusement. How the hell did this guy know who he was? “Yes,” Gray answered slowly, gauging his opponent carefully. His magic had paused in his madness to study Henrik as well. It peered curiously at the other’s magic; another Maker Mage?

Henrik’s magic rose to the inquiry and greeted Gray’s amicably, and with a bit of interest, much to the icy presence’s bewilderment. Weren’t they supposed to be enemies?

“Truly? What an auspicious day!” Henrik’s eyes were shining as he grinned at Gray. “I have been wanting to meet such a talented fellow Maker Mage for quite sometime now!”

Gray couldn’t possibly be more lost. “Uh,” he stammered, crossing his arms over his—and, now _really_ , when did this even _happen_?—bare chest, “that’s, uh, great? And, uh, thanks, I guess?” What do you want from him? This guy was allegedly his foe, but instead was gushing about how skilled Gray was at performing his magic; how beautiful and strong his creations were.

From experiencing Juvia, Gray was ill equipped in dealing with his fans.

“Um, no offense,” Gray interrupted the other mage, who froze and stared at him, “but aren’t we meant to be fighting each other?” Henrik blinked before blushing and rubbing the back of his head.

“Y-yes, sorry,” he apologized, “I haven’t heard of many skilled Maker Mages. And when I heard people talking about you, I just really wanted to meet you.” And now just what was Gray supposed to say to that?!

“Well then,” Gray decided, summoning his ice and praying for it to _prettyplease cooperate pleaseandthankyou_. “Let’s see who’s the better Maker Mage.” An icy cloud gathered blindingly fast into his palms. “Ice Make: Lance!” A volley of frozen weapons streaked towards the other Maker Mage.

Henrik brought up his hands. “Wind Make: Ozone Shield!” The barrage of lances crashed into the shield, cracking it devastatingly, but shattering and leaving the shield shakily intact. Henrik banished his shield with wide eyes. “Wow,” he murmured, “no one has _ever_ even _scratched_ my shield, let alone cracked it to the point that another strike would have left it utterly useless.”

 _Well that’s great that I cracked it,_ Gray thought to himself, collecting his wayward magic again, _but I’m seriously going to need to step up my game if all his creations are as strong as that shield._

“Now, I do believe it is my turn,” Henrik remarked amiably. His magic waved cheerfully at Gray’s as its mage summoned it. The wind picked up its furious pace. “Wind Make: Vapor Spears!” Gray grimaced as the water vapor in the air coagulated into numerous spears and flew at him viciously.

“Ice Make: Shield!” A sturdy sheet of ice sprang up and held strong even as the spears hit it with enough force to make his magic shudder. Once the bombardment ceased, Gray wasted no time. “Ice Cannon!”

Henrik let out a little shriek and dove to the side of Gray’s cannon blast. “Wind Make: Rapid Cutter!” Saw-like blades of air ripped towards Gray. The ice mage prepared himself to make another shield, but at that moment, his magic slithered out of his fingers and shot around the area, straining towards the clouds and other major congregations of magick littering the battlefield.

 _Fuck_ , Gray dodge-rolled out of the major brunt of Henrik’s attack, but still took a good number of gashes to his side and arms. He had to throw himself out of the way of another of Henrik’s attacks and tried not to stare at the massive furrow right where he had been standing. A cool caress bespoke of his magic’s apologetic return and he didn’t spend moments trying to reassure it.

“Ice Make: Saucer!” The buzz saw-like ice disk was launched violently at Henrik. The wind mage yelped and slipped in the mud in his attempt to avoid the saw, taking a few cuts for good measure.

“Wind Make: Sickles!”

“Ice Make: Net!” Henrik grit his teeth as a net of ice sprang to life and wrapped tightly around his sickles, rendering them useless.

Gray was about to make another creation when the air shifted yet again. A glowing, gold sigil appeared in thin air between the two Maker mages. The sigil’s glow grew blinding as shapes began to form. The light died and the people who had formed inside it fell gracelessly to the mud, most of them spitting colorful curses.

“What the— _Sting_?!” Gray gaped as the mages of Sabertooth tried to untangle themselves. “Rogue, Rufus, what?!”

Sting grinned up from the very bottom of the dogpile. “Heya Gray! Long time no see!” He groaned as his guildmates shifted on top, further squashing him. “Good thing Rufus remembers teleportation spells, am I right?” he wheezed.

“Rufus did what—Ice Make: Wall!” The icy wall erected just in time to protect the heap of mages. “Hurry up you idiots! We’re in the middle of a battle here!”

Gray kept Henrik occupied, the two Maker mages duking it out with spell after spell, the temperature and air pressure fighting against one another. And while Gray was busy, the Sabertooth mages extricated themselves, cursing and snapping, from the human knot and straightened up, eyes surveying the battlegrounds.

“What a mess,” Rogue murmured, “how does Fairy Tail always get into these situations?”

“Look at the town!” Yukino gasped, pointing. As the mages turned, their eyes widened as they took in the damaged city: buildings destroyed and crumbling, scatterings of glass, scorch marks and fires, fissures and furrows in the ground, spikes of earth, litters of bones, splashes of blood. Fairy Tail mages fought valiantly against a army of skeletons and shades, all ragged looking, but still standing.

“Right,” Sting began, his joking façade absent, “Rogue and I will stay and help Gray. The rest of you go and help the other Fairy Tail mages in the town. That includes you two as well, Lector, Frosch. Go now.” Yukino, Rufus, Minerva, and Orga nodded, the latter two grimacing faintly, before streaking off towards the town. The exceeds hesitated, loathe to leave their Dragonslayers, but one look from Rogue sent them scurrying off.

“Ready, Rogue?” Sting turned to his mate. Rogue nodded silently. The Twin Dragons of Sabertooth turned just in time to see both Maker Mages be blasted away from each other, shards of air and icicles clinging to them. 

Henrik landed neatly on his feet, skidding back slightly. “Wind Make: Serpent!” An enormous serpent of air rose up, towering over the ice mage and hissed.

Gray rolled with his landing and came up kneeling. “Ice Make: Arrows!” A volley of frozen projectiles smashed into the air-snake, sending it keening and writhing. Each arrow that pierced its windy hide froze the droplets of water in the damp air, gradually icing over the snake.

“Ice Make— _AH_!” Gray screamed as his magic exploded in his face, flinging him aways, knocking the air out of him as he crashed heavily on his back. The ice wizard wheezed as he sought out his magic. The icy signature contorted and recoiled; Gray could feel the pulling on it and he tried desperately to soothe it, to bring it back to sanity and back to him. He hurriedly tried to catch his breath. “Hold on just a little longer!” He begged it softly and his very soul ached as it tried to comply, keening in agony as something tried to forcefully separate it from its mage. 

They need our help! Gray didn’t understand. Who needed their help? That man is ruining _everything_! Everything is _wrong_ now and its _his fault_! Who’s fault?

He was vaguely aware of Sting and Rogue sprinting up and covering him. Flashes of white light and dark shadow illuminated the scene. Out of the corner of his eye, a scowling Henrik launched creation after creation at the Twin Dragons. Gray staggered to his feet, blood seeping out of a nasty wound on his thigh. He desperately reached for his magic, frowning at its sluggish reply, and made his way dizzily back to the fight. He noted absently that Sting and Rogue seemed to be handling the situation just fine in the meantime.

“White Dragon Roar!” The burst of blinding magic seared the air as it hit Henrik’s Wind Giant dead in the face, cleaving a huge furrow into its head; the formidable creation swayed for a moment before crumbling to the ground in pieces and dispersing.

Rogue expertly evaded the oncoming arm of his own Giant. “Shadow Dragon Slash!” Shadows swarmed Rogue’s arm as he pulled his fist back and blasted straight through the Giant’s torso. The Giant shuddered vigorously, its vapor form creaking as it slowly toppled to the side with a groan. The air creation dissolved into wisps of blackened smoke, exposing Henrik’s irritated countenance.

Gray hobbled over and stood side-by-side with the Sabertooth mages, silently convincing his magic to cooperate. 

“No,” Henrik growled lowly, “I am a Maker Mage. I will fight my rival in Maker Magic, Gray Fullbuster.” He glared particularly at Sting and Rogue, pouting that the pair had destroyed his Giants so easily. “I do not have time to cater to the whims of some Dragonslayers! Begone!” Air rushed towards his hands as he gathered his magic. “Wind Make: Golems!”

The wind breezed outwards, circling and swirling as it formed shape after shape after shape, surrounding the three wizards. The Golems were of a huge, stocky build, the twisting wind the material of their bodies. Oversized hands, long arms, and stout physiques. Crooked, sharpened teeth poked out from an under bite and hollow eyes bore into the mages.

“Huh,” Sting blinked. “I actually wasn’t expecting that.” Rogue rolled his eyes at his mate and his Gods-awful timing for jokes.

“Hey,” Gray murmured and the Twin Dragons turned to him, “can you two handle these things? I’m going to keep Henrik busy.”

Rogue frowned in concern, still keeping a close eye on the sluggishly moving Golems. “Are you certain, Gray? You do not look well.”

Gray grinned crookedly, albeit wearily. “I’ll be just fine, but thanks. Take care of yourselves,” he called over his shoulder as he iced the mud and skated to Henrik.

“If we really must handle these Golems, then we best get started.” Rogue sighed. He absolutely did not want to punch Sting when his mate whooped in excitement.

“All right!” Sting cheered. He bounded towards the first Golem. “Let’s dance, baby!”

Satisfied the Golems would be dealt with, Gray returned his attention completely back to Henrik. The wind mage was shaking his head at Sting’s attitude.

“Are all Dragonslayers that strange?” he asked Gray in bafflement.

“ _Yes_ ,” Gray sighed emphatically. “I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement or something.” Icy mist coated his fists and he narrowed his dark eyes at his opponent. The wind fluttered around the two foes, tugging on their clothes and breezing through their hair.

“Wind Make: Mealworm!” A screech before a long, serpentine worm burrowed into the mud. Gray poised his body, magic at the ready, and scanned the earth. Midnight eyes sharpened as he spotted the barely-visible trail of the Mealworm’s tunnel. The temperature plummeted as Gray waited until—there! The Mealworm burst from the earth, maw gaping wide and pincers gnashing in the rainy half-light, lunging towards the ice mage. Gray slammed his fist into his palm.

“Ice Impact!” An enormous, intricate hammer formed in milliseconds and smashed down onto the Mealworm’s head. The Mealworm shrieked at the impact, the hammer’s kinetic force so tremendous that the icy creation penetrated through the worm’s skull and down into the mud below. The Mealworm twitched for a second before disintegrating.

Henrik gritted his teeth and prepared his magic yet again. “Wind Make: Cannon Barrage!” He glared at his opponent, but inwardly he was squealing. Gray was proving his striking talent and Henrik counted his lucky stars that he was able to fight such a Maker Mage.

“Ice Make: Crescent Blades!” The crescent-shaped ice struck the cannonballs and splintered, freezing the projectiles solid in post-mortem vengeance. The cannonballs plummeted to the ground, exploding into crystals of ice upon impact.

Gray panted heavily; he could feel the considerable drain on himself and his magic. Normally, he wouldn’t have even broken a sweat, but with his magic acting so erratically and the pulling he could feel on it, he was impressed that he has been able to fight for this long.

Already he felt his magic sliding out of his grasp again. Hauling himself upright, he reacted just in time to throw up a mediocre shield and protect himself from a rather wicked-looking flail. Gray scowled darkly at his shoddy craftsmanship as his shield fractured into shards of ice.

Freezing mist gathered in his hands, occasionally slipping through his fingers, and Gray braced himself for an arduous battle.

 

* * *

 

“ _Lightning! Reverse Tower! Lovers!_ ” Cana combined her three cards quickly. “Thunderbolt’s Fate!” Lightning arced around her, striking the enemies that surrounded her, bolts hopping from one to another to another in rapid succession and destroying the shades and bone soldiers. Immediately, Cana felt a drain on her soul—the punishment for destroying the soul-shade creatures.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she swayed on the spot. “Stupid shades.” 

“You all right, Cana?” Macao limped up to her. Cana took in the lines of exhaustion on his face and the bone-weary set to his body.

“I’m fine,” She glared at him, “but you’re not.”

“I’m not dead yet,” he joked lightly. 

Cana glowered at him. “How many of those shades have you taken out?”

Macao sighed tiredly. “Too many. They’re so easily crushed, though." 

“We’re weakened every time we kill one, yet we have no choice but to destroy them.” Lisanna stumbled into the conversation, blood and dirt streaking her pretty face and staining her white hair. “Wakaba is down,” she continued, “we’ve moved him to the temporary infirmary over at the old market. A few of the townsfolk who remained are assisting Porlyusica down there.”

Macao attempted to rub the weariness from his face. “Damn. Well,” he turned to the ruined Magnolia, flooded with rain, mud, mages, soldiers, shades, and blood. “Fight’s not over yet. Let’s get going.”

Not far from the three retreating mages, Team Shadow Gear fought against a group of bone soldiers.

“Solid Script: Bullet!” Levy cried. Energy pellets fired at the soldiers, piercing through the bone and sending cracks spiraling in the bones. The soldiers creaked and rattled and hissed as they fell to the ground, where they lay unmoving.

“Plant Magic!” Vine erupted from the ground and stabbed the skeletons, picking them up and slamming them into the earth until the creatures exploded into fragments.

Jet blurred and reappeared with a high-velocity punch into the skull of a soldier. The skeleton careened into its allies, starting a domino effect that ended with a heap of cracked bones.

Shadow Gear regrouped and assessed the battlefield. “Okay,” Levy panted, shivering from the drenching rain, “this sector looks clear. Let’s move on to another.” As soon as she spoke the words, a shout sounded. Turning, the three mages were confronted with the group from Sabertooth. 

“Minerva? Rufus?” Levy’s wide eyes stared in shock at the newcomers. The two in question nodded and Rufus spoke up. 

“Yes. We have come to help. Where do you need us?” Rufus tried not to tense as the storm grew louder for a split second before quieting back to its normal pounding.

Levy, already aware of the urgency from her own jittery magic, acknowledged the Memory Mage. “We’ve cleared this sector of the bone soldiers and the soul shades,” she stated succinctly, “but there are numerous others that are overwhelmed. We’ve evacuated the townspeople, apart from those who offered to stay and help in whatever way they can. Right now, the old market near the center of the town is acting as a field infirmary. There is an army of skeleton soldiers and shades fashioned from soul magick. They must be destroyed, but I warn you now,” her eyes bore into the Sabertooth mages, “every shade you destroy takes a little energy from you. It’s unavoidable as we need to clear the town. Warren has been keeping us all up to date on the status of the sectors. Any questions?”

“So killing the shades hurts us?” Minerva demanded. At Levy’s nod, she cursed colorfully. “How did this bastard get his hands on soul magick?” 

“That’s what we’d like to know.” Levy’s face tightened. “But that’s also something we’re going to have to put on the back burner for now.” She brushed her soaking hair out of her face. “If you could head over to the Eastside, my guildmates over there could really use any help they could get. I’ll let Warren know you’ll be heading there.”

For once foregoing arguing about being ordered around, the Sabertooth mages nodded and picked their way hastily and carefully through the rubble of the city.

Levy sighed and turned back to Jet and Droy, poking within her brain for the little connection Warren had established when the siege had begun. ‘ _Warren, mages from Sabertooth have come to help. I’ve sent them over to the Eastside.’_

 _‘Understood. I’ll try to get in contact immediately. Thanks, Levy. Oh yeah, the Southside is having trouble with a huge population of shades. And the Trimens and Blue Pegasus arrived a few moments ago on the Westside. They brought Christina.’_ Levy had to grin widely at the prospect of blasting this infernal army with Christina’s weapons. _‘Pretty sure I also heard something about Quatro Cerberus and Mermaid Heel tackling the remains of the armies in the North. How’s it looking for you? You’re near the inner sections, right?’_

 _‘Yep. We’ve cleared these sectors.’_ A thought occurred to Levy. _‘Have you heard anything from Lamia Scale? Or Natsu and Gajeel?’_

 _‘Nothing yet from Lamia Scale, but the other guilds are only just managing to get here, so they shouldn’t be too much longer. And I saw Natsu and Gajeel making a right mess with their opponent. That is to say, they are wrecking things and their opponent is not being helpful in stopping that wreckage.’_ Levy laughed softly. _‘But both of them seemed to be okay. Erza and her guy are pretty evenly matched from what I heard. And Gray’s got Sting and Rogue to back him up against that Maker Mage. I haven’t heard anything from the Thunder Legion and Mirajane or Laxus and the Master, nor from Lucy and her gang, I’ll keep an ear out and keep you posted.’_

_‘Thanks, Warren. Good luck.’_

_‘Same to you, Levy.’_ The connection faded and Levy stretched her aching muscles. “Let’s get going!” Jet and Droy stood from the rubble they had sat upon and followed their teammate.

“So, Sabertooth’s here.” Droy piped up. “Anyone else come along?”

“Yeah,” Levy nodded, “Quatro Cerberus, Mermaid Heel, and Blue Pegasus with Christina.”

“Lamia Scale?” Jet fidgeted as they walked, his magic still vibrating with energy. 

Levy shook her head. “Nothing on them just yet. It hasn’t been that long even if it’s felt like days.” 

As she spoke, on the other side of town, a glowing ball of light fizzled into existence and flashed. Six mages appeared, standing tall and fresh. The resulting outburst of magical energy from the teleportation lacrima reduced the nearby skeletons to ash. Cana, Macao, and Lisanna gaped in disbelief at the late arrivals. 

A dog-resembling mage gave a jaunty salute. “Lamia Scale present and reporting for duty!” 

Cana huffed and grinned. “Fashionably late, as always.” 

“But of course.” A white-haired male smirked. “Can’t let Gray and the rest of you Fairies have all the fun.” 

Macao snorted. “Of course not. Well, now that you’re here, let’s get you up to speed. An army of skeleton soldiers and soul-shades have lay siege on the town.” He waved his hand at the smoking, burning ruins. “As you can see, this fight hasn’t been a walk in the park. Help us clear out the city. There’s an infirmary set up in the market at the center of the town. The enemies are easy to kill, but watch out for the shades. When you kill one, you get injured as well. They suck the energy out of you as a parting gift, the bastards.” 

“You get injured as well when you dispatch one of these shades?” Jura grimaced. “I have never held such magic in high esteem.”

“Has anyone?” Yuka put in with a scowl. 

“This does not bode well for the power of Love.” Sherry wept. Chelia patted her cousin on the back and addressed Cana and Macao.

“Should I head over to the infirmary? My Sky God Magic may be of best use there.”

“I think Porlyusica’s got a handle on things for the moment.” Macao supplied after a glance with Cana. “But if Warren tells us things have gotten worse, we’ll let you know.”

Lisanna chose that moment to, once again, insert herself smoothly into the conversation. “I’ve informed Warren about Lamia Scale’s arrival.” To the new arrivals she added, “We really can’t thank you enough for your help.”

“Don’t thank us just yet.” Lyon flexed his muscles and summoned his ice, mentally noticing its uneasiness. It called out to a certain icy signature, but received only silence in reply. What _did_ answer was a jumble of anger and agony and fury and agitation. Lyon’s mouth tightened. “Where’s Gray?” He asked quietly. “Is he okay? I can’t sense him anywhere with all this magical interference.”

“Gray’s taking on the Gypsy’s Hoard’s Maker Mage. Last we heard, he’s got Sting and Rogue of Sabertooth to back him up.” Macao answered equally as muted. “And as for that interference, the psycho mage in charge of this new guild pissed of the primordial magicks.”

“Gray won’t need back up.” Lyon stated dismissively. “He’s a powerful Maker Mage and a student of Ur. He’ll be fine.” His eyes narrowed at the rest of Macao’s words, however. “Primal magick?” It was Lamia Scale’s Wizard Saint who picked up where Macao left off.

“That guild master has indeed disturbed the primal energies,” Jura clenched his fist tightly, “I can easily sense their discomfort and rage.” He tilted his head suddenly. “I can also sense them reaching out to someone. Is there a mage present who can call upon them?” He looked around at the small assembly. Each one shook their heads. 

“We have no idea.” Lisanna answered for all present. “But if that’s what you’re sensing, then someone here must be feeling those magicks calling them, right?”

“Yes,” Jura murmured, “the mage whom the primeval forces are reaching to will be in trouble, especially if they are fighting. Their magic will be torn between fulfilling its duty to its mage and answering the summons of its rulers.”

“Enough chit chat about ancient powers we have no control over.” Cana interrupted impatiently, magic swirling around her cards. “Focus on what’s in front of us. We have an army to demolish and a battle to win.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh. What a beast of a chapter for me.  
> I put off my papers because I am a procrastinator to the finest degree and none of you can break me of that habit.  
> Next chapter is going to have all the battles that weren't mentioned in this one, so don't freak.  
> It might take me a bit to write it (have to actually do that college thing, damn it) so sorry for the upcoming wait.  
> Hope you enjoyed it and if you see any errors holler at me.  
> And drop me a comment and tell me what you thought!
> 
> Thanks for reading~


	6. Stronger Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Chapter VI here  
> Apologies for the long wait, but college comes first  
> Also, I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter for some reason. And I'm still bloody awful at battle scenes, so I'm not too pleased with how some of this came out.  
> In regards to the power of some people/spells: this is a different 'verse (obviously) than normal FT, so I'm taking a few liberties here and there.  
> But more on that later.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

 

“Open Gate of the Scorpion: Scorpio!” Lucy’s voice echoed and the scorpion celestial spirit flashed into being with a grin, hand held up with his two middle fingers curled into his palm. Lucy grinned back at him before her face turned serious. She pointed to the writhing mass of plants. “Take that down, Scorpio!”

The celestial spirit was all too happy to comply. With a laugh, he pointed his tail and blasted his Sand Magic straight into the center of the organic mass. The sand smashed against the plants, bursting them apart with a vengeance. The plants exploded into chunks, sending goo and slime everywhere, including the Fairy Tail mages.

“Oh, yuck!” Lucy squealed, desperately trying to wipe off the slick goo.

Wendy pulled her slimy hair out of her face with a look of disgust. Juvia thought about turning her body to water, but quickly decided against that when she considered the slimy goo mixing with her water.

Esmeralda, on the other hand, merely ignored the mucus coating her body and gathered her magic again. “Plant Magic: Creeping Vines!” Her magic surged up, splitting into multiple green tentacles, before ramming into the ground and snaking their way through the mud and gunk and plant bits and sand towards the three girls.

The creeping vines reared up in front of the girls, tips sharpened to a frightening point. Wendy felt her dragon shake itself out of its discomfort and unease in order to rise to match the challenge. Wendy felt the wind race to her beckoning, swirling and twisting around her arms. The vines struck, quick as vipers, as Wendy roared her spell.

“Sky Dragon Wing Attack!” The air sliced through the vines in a whirlwind, decimating the plants surrounding her. Just as the whirlwind cleared, however, more vines had crept up and were poised to attack. 

“Water Slicer!” The blades of water cut the vines in half, but more gathered. Juvia hurried to stand by Wendy and the duo began to slice and dice the creeping, slithering vines.

“Sky Dragon’s Claw!” 

“Water Cane!”

The air slashes and water whip sliced through the vines like paper. More popped out of the ground like daisies in snow.

“Water Shrapnel!” Juvia cried. Droplets of scalding water flung themselves at the vines, slicing and burning them with a vindictive ferociousness. New waves of vines replaced the smoking ones and Juvia fumed in frustration. She launched wave after wave of water at the offending plants, drowning them in scorching, steaming water. 

Wendy was having a bit of a more difficult time than Juvia. Her Dragon was growling at the storm, not at all liking the implications of its origin. She pleaded with it to focus as the thorny vines crept up rapidly. With great reluctance, her Dragon ceased trying to intimidate the storm and allowed Wendy to properly access her magic. At which time the vines had formed a thick semicircle around the wind mage in an attempt to overpower the young Dragonslayer. 

“Sky Dragon Roar!” The hurricane attack devastated the vines, torpedoing through the central mass and slicing the peripheral creepers. Wendy sent subsequent blasts of wind at the surviving vines, riving them into pieces.

Soon, the girls scanned the battlefield for further creepers, relieved when the sound of the slithering plants was absent.

Lucy, having snuck around the battalion of vines, held up another key. “Open Gate of the Golden Bull: Taurus!” The huge cow mooed loudly as he charged through his gate.

“Don’t worry Miss Lucy,” he promised, hearts in his eyes as he gazed at his mistress, “I will keep you and your four friends safe!” Lucy sighed as the bull stared lovingly at her chest and snapped her fingers. The celestial mage gestured to Esmeralda. 

“Taurus! Stop her from summoning more of those vines!” Taurus, ever eager to please his busty mistress, unsheathed his battle-axe and charged at Esmeralda. The plant mage scowled as she divided her concentration on keeping her vines coming and defending herself.

Taurus slammed into a wall of vines and immediately began chopping them down. Lucy uncoiled her whip and cracked it at the vines that were sneaking around the wall; not that it was really effective, but at least it was something. The pair steadily made their way to Esmeralda, who finally had to stop her creeping vine spell and focus her attention on the towering celestial spirit and his master. 

Green spores appeared in the former gypsy’s hands. She threw them at the ground. “Man-eater!” Monstrous Venus Fly Traps erupted from the ground. They writhed about, snapping and gnashing their jaws. Taurus gripped his axe and swung it high to cleave one in twain. The flytrap was faster. It lashed out and clamped down on Taurus’s forearm, sinking its fangs into the spirit’s flesh.

Taurus mooed in pain and wrenched the carnivorous plant off of him, but the damage was done. The flytrap had gotten a taste of celestial blood and communicated with its brethren. Soon enough, Taurus was jumping and slashing and blocking the vicious plants. It was all that he could do to not let them take chunks out of him.

“Close Gate of the Golden Bull!” Lucy couldn’t bear to watch her friend get torn up. She waved off his apologies and whipped out another key. “Open Gate of the Archer: Sagittarius!” The horse-man appeared with a crisp salute.

“I am here and ready for duty, Lady Lucy!” Lucy smiled at her friend’s loyalty.

“Take out those fly traps! Don’t let them bite you!” Sagittarius nodded and quickly drew an arrow. Firing at the plants, both spirit and master were dismayed to see the arrow bounce harmlessly off the outer shell of the carnivores.

Sagittarius narrowed his eyes and notched another arrow. He waited until one of the plants opened its maw and then fired. The arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself into the plant’s mouth with a sickening _squelch_. Green ooze spurted from the bulls-eye and Lucy turned a bit green herself. 

“Nice going Sagittarius!” Lucy praised, shaking off her nausea. “Keep hitting them in their mouths!”

As Lucy and Sagittarius tackled the clan of Venus Fly Traps, Esmeralda tapped into her magic again. It happily leapt to her fingers, swirling in her palm as a soothing balm of green, ready to summon more organic life. She spread both hands and let her magic weave itself into a new form. Pincers, spindly legs, beady eyes, thick exoskeleton, and a giant mushroom growing out of its back. The crab-like plant creature came up to Esmeralda’s waist and clacked its claws menacingly. 

Esmeralda pointed at Lucy and her spirit. “Poison spores!” The crab clacked before scurrying closer to the celestial mage. The mushroom glowed a faint lime color before exhaling loudly. Little purple spores rode the breeze towards Lucy.

“Sky Dragon Wave Wind!” A huge tornado sucked up the poisonous spores and enfolded them into the violently twisting wind funnel. The speed of the twirling air ripped the spores apart until not even iotas of particles remained. The tornado slowed to a stop, eventually dissipating into a harmless breeze.

Wendy, Juvia beside her, stood her ground, glaring at Esmeralda. “Why?” she asked, surprisingly harsh. “Why are you attacking our guild? Why have you destroyed our town?”

Esmeralda regarded the little Dragonslayer emotionlessly. “Why you ask?” she murmured eventually. “There is no _why_ , not really.”

“That is not an answer.” Juvia retorted coldly. She shifted minutely, mentally pulling her magic away from poking at the storm.

“No, I suppose it is not.” Esmeralda frowned, regarding the clacking, hissing crab-plant creature beside her. “But I fear it is the only answer I have for you.” She turned emerald eyes on the pair of mages. “There is no real _why_ in regards to us attacking you specifically. I suppose it could be attributed to the strength of your guild, of your magic.” A flicker of green up to the storming sky above. “But I doubt that is a true _why_.”

“You don’t seem to put putting much effort into your attacks.” Wendy pointed out quietly. “You could have easily overwhelmed us, but you haven’t.” Juvia spared her teammate a glance, privately shocked that Wendy had noticed something she and Lucy had missed.

Esmeralda’s frown deepened and her face tightened as Wendy continued. “You don’t really want to be here, do you?” The youngest Dragonslayer’s words hit a chink and the wind mage knew it. “You’re here because you have to be.”

The former gypsy’s mask cracked slightly and she turned sad eyes towards the two female mages. “Wouldn’t you do anything for the people you love? Even if it’s the most despicable things you could imagine?”

It was silent for a long minute. Lucy and Sagittarius, both bleeding scarlet and gold respectively, stood quietly off to the side among oozing corpses of plants. They had managed to fell the final flytrap just in time to hear Wendy and Esmeralda’s last exchange. It was Juvia who broke the silence.

“Juvia understands where you are coming from. Juvia has been in your position before.”

Esmeralda laughed, a soft, sort of broken thing. “How fortunate. I suppose then you’ll attempt to give me advice? Tell me how to cope?” she sneered, but there was no heat in it. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” She waved a hand dismissively. “The sooner we finish with this chore, the sooner we can begin to fix everything that’s gone wrong.” She leveled a remorseful expression on the three girls. “If it’s any consolation,” she murmured, “I _am_ sorry about this. But I love my family too much to abandon any of them, no matter how lost they have become.”

The three Fairy Tail mages tensed as the magic-infested air shifted and the crab-plant creature screeched and glowed, growing in size so that it was as tall as Esmeralda’s chest.

“Brace yourselves, Fairies,” Esmeralda’s firm tone seemed to echo. “I’m not going easy anymore.”

 

* * *

 

“Fairy Machine Gun: Leprechaun!” Bright, golden needles materialized in front of Evergreen and pelted at the skeletal colossus. The energy needles cracked the bone with each hit and Evergreen gritted her teeth as she darted around the sky, a continuous stream of energy bullets still assailing her target.

Bickslow, never one to let someone else have all the glory, hopped up onto a piece of a destroyed building. “C’mon babies! Line Formation!” His five little tiki dolls hovered in a vertical line, gleefully gathering energy. A tall, crescent-shaped beam released towards the skeleton, only bisecting the bottoms of the ribs when the creature shifted. The skeleton hissed and rattled, shaking off the bullets and bisection easily. It turned hollow eyes onto the annoyances that kept striking it and swung a spiked tail at Evergreen and Bickslow. Evergreen rocketed into the air in evasion, but Bickslow reacted a moment too late. His dolls streaked through the air to defend their master, but were stopped by a dark purple, pulsing, beam of magic.

“Demon Blast!” Mirajane’s aim hit the mark and the tail splintered and shattered, sending bone fragments everywhere. Evergreen yelped as pieces scratched her skin and face. Bickslow grunted when a sizeable fragment lodged itself in his arm; blood immediately seeped out, staining the fragment a pinkish-red. His dolls swarmed him, begging in their childish tones to confirm that he was all right.

“’M fine, babies.” He grinned widely at them. “Just a bit o’ a flesh wound!” He raised a brow as the colossus righted itself, imbalanced now without its tail, snarling in rage. “How’s ‘bout we take this to the next level? Baryon Formation!” The dolls cheerfully hovered in a spinning circle, each one turning a bright green as they energized. A massive, blindingly green beam discharged into the body of the bony behemoth. The discharge exploded the beast’s torso even further, catapulting slivers of bone in all directions.

“Whoa!” Bickslow ducked behind a fallen building as a larger chunk sunk into the mud, narrowly avoiding being hit.

“Bickslow! Do you have it send it flying _everywhere_?!” Evergreen snapped as she used her machine gun to destroy the little shards flinging about the battleground.

The Seith Mage’s laugh bellowed. “Sorry, Ever!” Evergreen scowled at him as she launched another volley of Fairy Magic at the skeleton goliath. Bickslow hopped up from his shelter and practically skipped over to help, commanding his babies with a zealous glee. “Let’s shake things up, babies!”

Not far from half of the Thunder Legion, two streaks of light, deep purple and bloody red, smacked into each other, separated, then clashed again. The magic quivered around the pair, Satan-Soul Mirajane and Bone-Armored Ullrych. Mirajane’s wings flapped violently and her tail lashed as she backtracked from her opponent. Ullrych back-handsprung away, his cartilaginous wings folding against his armored backside.

The Take-Over Mage studied her foe. Clearly, she had underestimated the strength of his armor. She had thought, not unfoundedly, that he would not have enough magic to fight properly. Considering that he was the source of the behemoth Evergreen and Bickslow were tackling _and_ the skeletal army assaulting her town and guild, she had assumed his magic power would be stretched thin. She was wrong.

Not only was his magic barely depleted, but he also appeared to have stores of reserved energy. Compartmentalizing his magic in order for him to not tire himself out, Mirajane had to admit she was impressed. Rare was the mage who could perform that properly and successfully. It seemed Ullrych Fauliner had no trouble with that.

There was also the matter of his unusually strong armor. He should have been weakened drastically and unable to have such fortitude in any spells he casted hence. She narrowed her eyes to study it more closely. 

A horned helm, spiked shoulder pauldrons, a chest plate complete with ribs and vertebrae, spikes down the back of said chest plate, vambraces of interwoven bone, gauntlets with spikes at the knuckles and claws on the fingertips, greaves of bone with spikes protruding from the outer sides, spike-tipped boots. All the color of bleached-bone.

With her strength, she should have cracked it. She should have definitely cracked the bony claymore in his hands, but neither would fissure. And there was another, important concern...

“You use Bone Magic.” Mirajane growled at Ullrych. The dark man raised a brow, silently telling her to go on. “So why have you not unleashed your magic on _our_ bones? Bone Magic is certainly capable of a feat like that.”

Ullrych nodded. “An astute observation, Fairy. Normally, it would be simple to influence your bone structures to follow _my_ commands. However,” he went on, “the three of you use magic that, unfortunately, cannot be swayed by mine. You with your Take-Overs, your comrade with her Fae Magic, and that strange man with the possession magic.” He raised his blade and attacked, Mirajane defending. They exchanged blows and blocks before he explained further. “Your magic,” he grunted, “its energy interferes with my own. Because you have magic that affects you physically or demands a certain type of magical output like soul possession or mystical light,” he nimbly dodged a fierce strike from Mirajane, his sword a blur as he swung in retaliation, “you cannot be affected by my magic. Your master must have known that when he ordered you three to engage me.” Ullrych added at a pause.

Dark energy concentrated in a purple ball in her palms. 

Mira raised her hands high and Ullrych backtracked nimbly, watching her warily. The She-Demon hurled the purple ball, in a perfect rendition of a fastball pitch, at Ullrych.

“Evil Explosion!”

The Bone Mage swiftly hardened his armor with one of his reserves and powered his blade until it shone with a crimson light. He tensed his leg muscles and pushed himself off of the ground, rocketing straight towards the dark energy. Raising his blade high, he swung downwards with a mighty stroke, cleaving the magic in twain. His continuing momentum propelled him through the newly-crafted trench and barreled him into Mirajane, sending her flying into the ground.

Water, mud, debris, and blood surged up in two waves as the She-Demon skidded across the mud. Slamming into a fallen building, Mirajane groaned in pain, one clawed hand reaching up to her temple. The stench of iron alerted her to the blood trickling from a filthy slice on her temple. Her body protested as she tried to stand and she could already feel the contusions forming. Mira hissed as she moved her left arm. Glancing down, she grimaced at the unnatural angle it hung.

Harsh panting tore her attention from her wounds. Ullrych had landed a few meters away, his trembling form and cracking armor betraying his exertion from that last attack. Speaking of, Mira growled when she noticed the demolished sections of the woods. The trees that had been hit with her demon spell had either been reduced to sheer ash or became shriveled up husks.

“You have tremendous power, Demon Fairy.” Ullrych limped up to Mirajane. “You have impressed me.” He clasped his necklace in his hand. It started to shine a neutral grey color. To her horror, Mira noticed that Ullrych was rejuvenating right before her eyes. “But the true question is: how long can you keep this up?” He jerked his head over to where Bickslow and Evergreen were still fighting the skeletal colossus. “You’re comrades are proving to be most resilient. As are the rest of your guild.” He gestured to the rest of the battlefield.

Mira risked a glance and felt pride at what she saw: Erza, still going strong; Gray stubbornly holding his own in spite of his telltale exhaustion; Natsu and Gajeel were clearly enjoying themselves; Freed was giving no ground; Lucy, Juvia, and Wendy fighting together flawlessly; her remaining family not relenting an inch; the other guilds keeping their promises to help. In the farthest distance, she could have sworn she saw the hulking shape of the Master, surrounded by arcs of lightning.

Her family was not giving up, so neither would she. Mira turned back to Ullrych, a triumphant gleam in her eye. “We are not to be trifled with. You won’t make us surrender that easily.”

Ullrych nodded to himself. He had to admit, he was immensely impressed by the tenacity of this guild. While he knew they would not have ever surrendered without a fight, he hadn’t calculated the amount of endurance these Fairies possessed. Nor the amount of loyalty they inspired in others, as expressed by the presence of other guilds. It was truly something to be inspired by.

Perhaps, in another life, Ullrych might have joined them.

But that was neither here nor there. In this life, Ullrych had made a different choice. And with all the steadfast resolve that he contained, he would see this through to the end.

Even if that end was only a harbinger of misery for all.

 

* * *

 

A huge purple explosion heralded the she-demon’s attack. To Natsu and Gajeel’s surprise, they saw Mira go flying and hit the ground, skidding aways. The two Dragonslayers’ jaws went slack. They knew first hand how strong Mira’s attacks were, and to see her attacks brushed off and _she_ attacked instead was unbelievable.

“Yay! Go Ully!” Mellie cheered for her guildmate. She sent more boulders to attack the two mages whilst they were distracted.

Gajeel snarled as he dove to the side to evade the boulders. His Dragon snapped its jaws open and shut, bristling and twitching. Already put off by the tingling rain, it became even more agitated when this little girl used her magic.

The ground upon which the two Fairy Tail mages stood quaked, sending the pair off-balance and forcing them to extend their concentration onto not falling. Gajeel and Natsu righted themselves as soon as the quaking ceased, glaring at their opponent.

The iron mage sniffed the air again, ignoring the reek of rain, blood, ice, plants, magick, and whatever the hell else hovered, focusing on the scent of earth and moss. His Dragon peered over his shoulder, squinting at the other hulking shape behind the girl. It rumbled in disbelief.

Gajeel’s eyes went wide. 

Natsu put the thoughts to words. “You’re a Dragonslayer, aren’t you?” 

The little girl giggled. “Wow! You two are pretty quick!” She then pouted slightly. “Was I too obvious? What gave it away?” 

“Your scent and your magic.” Natsu pointed out succinctly. His conjured his flames, noting how they seemed to shiver at the touch of the raindrops. The sight made his mind wander to Gray and he had to force himself to not abandon Gajeel and run to his mate. But seeing his flames quiver and feeling the thrums of disturbed magic in his veins, he could only imagine how badly Gray must feel. Yet when Natsu saw him last, Gray was fighting strong against the other Maker Mage, much to Natsu’s smug pride; plus he apparently had Sting and Rogue to back him up (and now when did they get here?)

The girl’s high-pitched laughter brought him out of his thoughts. “Of course, of course. What self-respecting Dragonslayer would not be able to detect another of its kind? How silly of me to forget that!” She grinned brightly. “So who were your parents? Mine was Terraphina, the Earth Dragon!”

Gajeel clenched his jaw, but, surprisingly, answered accordingly. “Metalicana, Iron Dragon.”

Following Gajeel’s lead ( _only_ this time!), Natsu, too, replied. “Igneel, Fire Dragon.”

The girl’s eyes shone with wonder. “Wow! Fire and Iron! That’s so cool! Are there anymore?”

Natsu and Gajeel exchanged a rather bemused look and shrugged. “Yeah, there are a few.” The fire mage responded vaguely. The girl didn’t seem to be bothered by his non answer.

Instead she was ecstatic. “Amazing!” Blue eyes sparkled with delight. “I thought I was the only one! But now I actually get to meet other Dragonslayers!” She waved cheerfully at them, not at all put off by their confusion. “I’m Mellie! Who are you?”

“Natsu,” the fire mage answered, puzzled.

“Gajeel,” came the more grumpy reply of the iron mage.

Mellie absolutely beamed. The two males swore they would go blind by the brightness of her smile. “It’s nice to meet you! Let’s be friends! But, aw,” her entire countenance drooped, “I forgot we have to fight each other.” Mellie frowned in disappointment, then her expression lit up slightly once more. “I know! Let’s fight now, but be friends later, okay?" 

“Uh, yeah, sure...” Natsu mumbled. He was completely confused. What was this girl’s deal?

“Yay!” Mellie cheered. She jumped up and down, clapping her hands in joy. “Fighting time~” she sang. “But can we make things more interesting? I wanna see who’s the strongest of us, so don’t hold back, okay?” 

Gajeel flexed his fingers; his Dragon salivated at the thought of going all out. “All right, now _that_ is an idea I can get behind.”

Natsu grinned as he summoned flames to his other fist. “Oh, yeah! I’m all fired up!”

Mellie laughed. “Whoever wins gets to keep this!” She held up her wrist, showing off the dragon bracelet. “Mum gave it to me, she said it’s made out of dragon scales and a jewel from one of their treasure troves!”

Natsu and Gajeel gaped at the little girl. How the _hell_ did she get a bracelet like _that_? Dragon’s rarely gave up their scales to anyone, even other dragons, and they _never_ relinquished treasure from their hoards.

“Heh, you’re on, girlie.” Gajeel chuckled darkly. He didn’t much care for the bracelet, he only wanted to see who was the strongest Dragonslayer here. Salamander would likely prove a challenge, but he doubted this little girl would.

“Just oooone last rule!” Mellie’s grin sharpened. “It’s going to be you two against me. If I lose, _then_ you two can fight for the prize. But since it’s _my_ guild that challenged yours, you have to fight against me, together!”

“What?” Gajeel and Natsu snapped. “There’s no way I’m fighting with that Salamander!” Gajeel snarled.

“Yeah, I can fight you one on one. Who needs this loser Junk Brain anyway?” Natsu pounded his fists together.

“ _What_?” Gajeel snapped, turning his ferocious glare onto the fire mage. “You’re one to talk, Salamander!” 

“Shut up, Gajeel!” Natsu retorted, smashing his forehead against the other Dragonslayer’s. “You wanna start something?!”

“Hey!” Mellie interrupted before the boys could make any further headway. “Less fighting, more _fighting_!” She stamped her foot and, as if to prove her point, the earth cracked around her and a boulder burst from the ground. Pulling her tiny fist back, she punched it, shooting it at the bickering Fairy Tail mages.

The boys silenced their arguing and punched the boulder with fists coated in metal and flames, demolishing it with relative ease. Mellie wasn’t deterred and simply looked to her Dragon, which nodded its head. An echoing roar accompanied her earth-tone magic circle. 

“Earth Dragon Mineral Glaive!” Mellie launched herself at the pair, the ground liquefying and reaching up to her hand, hardening into a long, dragonhead-tipped glaive. She swung the glaive in tandem with her momentum, slamming it into Natsu and Gajeel as fast as thought. Knocking the boys to the side, she held her glaive high to strike them again.

“Iron Dragon Club!” Mellie’s eyes darted to Gajeel before she dodge-rolled out of the way of his oncoming metal club-arm. Unfortunately for her, Mellie had rolled right into the flames of the Fire Dragonslayer.

“Fire Dragon Claw!” Natsu kicked his flames right at Mellie’s head. The girl quickly held up her mineral glaive to block his strike, saving herself from rather nasty burns. She frowned as the glaive melted from the heat of the fire. Discarding it, she stood.

“Earth Dragon Obsidian Scales!” The liquid earth rose up and covered her small form, solidifying into black, glossy scales all over her body. Her eyes shone an unnerving blue amidst the sleek, dark, volcanic glass. Obsidian blades jutted out from Mellie’s elbows and heels.

“Oh yeah?” Gajeel sneered. “Two can play at that game! Iron Scales!” Steels scales raced down his body, coating it in a thick plating of metal. His right arm transformed into a saw-like sword. With a wild grin and a dragon’s roar, he threw himself at the black-scaled girl.

Mellie brought her arm up to block Gajeel’s weapon with a resounding _clang_. Gajeel swung again and Mellie blocked it once more. She whipped her elbow forward and sliced at Gajeel’s scales, but not making a single mark. Quick as lightning, the two traded parries and thrusts. Gajeel’s normal hand lashed out, wrapping around the smaller slayer’s bicep, and hurling her into one of the nearby, crumbling buildings.

As Mellie pulled herself out of the wreckage, she took a face full of fire. Natsu pounded his fists together, grinning madly.

“There’s more where that came from!” He laughed. The fire mage skillfully blocked the little girl’s punches and jabs and kicks, before shoving a fistful of fire into her stomach. The girl could actually feel the heat through her obsidian—something that has never happened! She slashed her elbow blades backwards to halt a sneaking Gajeel. 

Mellie, despite knowing she was severely disadvantaged in terms of natural body strength, was having a blast. She darted away from the two older slayers and hopped up onto a broken staircase.

Gulping in a lungful of air, she screamed out. “Earth Dragon Roar!” A tornado of earth expelled from her lips and headed for the other mages. But Natsu and Gajeel had the same exact thought.

“Fire Dragon Roar!”

“Iron Dragon Roar!”

A collision of three Dragon’s Roars created an impressive explosion of molten metal, melted earth, and burning flame, and sent the respective mages flying. All three landed on their feet, the heavier, older mages sliding backwards a bit in the slick mud. They stared at the product of their colliding attacks for a good minute.

“Holy shit,” Natsu breathed, eyes wide. He turned to his guildmate and his opponent with an excited grin. “That was awesome!”

“Huh,” Gajeel mused, “I knew two hitting was pretty intense, but three?” He huffed, a reluctant smirk tugging on his lips. “Not bad.”

Mellie was much less subdued. “Oh _wow_!” She gushed. “That was so _pretty_! Can we do it again?” she begged.

It had to be wondered, if enjoying destruction was a Dragonslayer prerequisite.

The boys’ grins widened. “I think this,” Natsu conjured his flames, “is going to be a lot more fun than I thought.” 

Gajeel chuckled as he flexed his sword. “Gi-hi-hi, time to see who’s the strongest!”

Mellie, boundless energy as always, wasted no time. She leapt high into the air.

“Earth Dragon Stalagmites!” And came plummeting back down to the earth with a mighty crash, her fist forcing a shockwave that rippled the earth, splashing mud and debris up into the air. Immediately, spires of rock rose up from the earth in sequence. The stone spires spiraled out from Mellie’s position, each spiral conjuring more and more stalagmites. Natsu and Gajeel were hard-pressed to evade. So focused were they on not being skewered on an earthen pike, they didn’t have time to defend against Mellie’s next attack. 

Earth Dragon Quake Strike!” Mellie slammed her fist into Gajeel’s solar plexus with all the force of a ferocious earthquake. The steel scales cracked and shattered off of the iron mage. Gajeel went rocketing into a massive stalagmite several meters from Mellie and Natsu. The resounding _wham_ shook the earth around the battle and little segments of the rock spires tumbled down. Gajeel slumped over, unconscious.

“Gajeel!” Natsu cried, but his guildmate was out of it. He turned a glare onto Mellie. “What the hell did you do?”

“I only hit him with the force of a city-leveling earthquake.” Mellie pointed out with a blink. “It’s not my fault his armor couldn’t handle it and he got hurt.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But,” she continued more brightly, “That’s one down and two left. Looks like it’s just you and me, Natsu!” Mellie cheered.

Natsu’s flames burned hotter. Anxiety about Gray and his guild, agitation from his magic, fury at these foes, and sort-of-concern for Gajeel prickled at his nerves. His fire responded accordingly. “Let’s go then,” he growled. Mellie clenched her obsidian fist, blue eyes shining luminously. Their Dragons loomed over their respective mages and roared a challenge to each other.

Columns of flame and spires of earth collided as the two Dragonslayers clashed.

 

* * *

 

Freed had initially planned to follow Laxus as the Lightning Dragonslayer took off after his grandfather, but shimmering green lettering halted him in his tracks. He had recognized the symbols: _runes_.

The rune mage had turned to see the woman in the provocative green dress standing elegantly, an intricate, feathered, peacock-decaled fan concealing the lower half of her face. Her green eyes had danced with mirth at Freed’s minute scowl.

“Now where are you going?” She had purred. “I hope you realize it’s impolite to leave a woman to entertain herself.”

“I apologize for my rudeness,” Freed returned stoically, “but I am afraid I am needed elsewhere.” He tried to exit the confrontation and head to his mate, but was stopped by an invisible force field. He had glanced up to see the glittering green runes and felt his stomach sink. 

_Neither combatant may leave until the battle has concluded, regardless the manner of conclusion._

So. He was trapped for the duration of the battle and would not be released until the fight reached a climax, whatever the method.

Freed had drawn his sword and called his own runes. The shimmering purple symbols racing down his blade, pulsing zealously.

The woman had nodded and Freed heard the smirk in her words. “A fellow Rune Master, hm? This is certainly set to be an interesting match.” A tilt of her head, still managing to look impeccable despite being as thoroughly soaked to the bone as Freed was. “You may call me, Morgana.” 

Freed had narrowed his eyes at her seductive tone. “I am Freed.”

Morgana had lowered her fan and there was that smirk. “Shall we begin?”

And thus, Freed found himself in his current predicament. He was writing and casting his runes quicker than he ever had, only to have each one unraveled and dismantled by his opponent.

Purple and green duked it out, neither yielding. Freed’s rapier was a blur as he wrote out his next rune.

“Dark Écriture: Daggers!” Daggers of purple runes shot toward Morgana. The other rune mage held up her fan and Freed saw the green glow of her own runes shimmering on the fan.

“Acid Écriture: Shield!” A shield of glittering acid green runes popped up in front of the curvaceous woman. Freed watched his daggers sink to the hilts into the shield with a slight frown. But his eyes widened as the dark runes seemed to smoke and hiss when they came in contact with the acid runes. The green symbols ate away at the purple letterings, dissolving them into nothingness.

“What?” he breathed.

Morgana smirked. “Surprised?” she crooned.

Freed glared at her. “What manner of Rune Magic is this? I have no knowledge of runes that can dissolve other runes.”

Morgana laughed lowly. “This magic is a little bit of this and a little bit of that and a little bit of my own creation.” she replied coyly. “It’s called Acid Écriture. Much like your Dark Écriture embraces the power of darkness, mine embraces the power of destruction. Similar to how chemical acids dissolve most anything they touch, my runes can dissolve other runes.”

“And you designed this technique?”

“It was a successful experiment, so I suppose that is so.”

Freed tilted his head in, albeit reluctant, respect. “You must have quite the mind to be able to create your own type of runes.” 

Morgana preened at the compliment. “Why thank you. Handsome _and_ charming,” her smile was as seductive as it was predatory. It made Freed want to stay as far away from this woman as possible, if only for his safety and virtue.

Freed waved his rapier. “Make no mistake; I shall defeat you, Morgana. Dark Écriture: Illusion!”

The rune mage narrowed her eyes as the purple runes solidified into a dark maze, completely obscuring the battlefield and her opponent. She treaded forward carefully. “How rude,” she murmured, “hiding yourself from your opponent. I thought you were a gentleman, Freed.” As she traversed the maze, frustration bubbled up inside her as she continuously failed to locate the exiting runes. Morgana was no stranger to fooling the eyes, and in turn, the mind; she had used such practices to lull her clients into a false sense of security. She had perfected the art of swaying people to believe what they see in front of them long before she had even met Esmeralda and Vincenzo.

How irritating to have her own methods used against her. But, she conceded, a mage would be foolish to not use such techniques, particularly if said mage manipulated runes. Freed was very obviously not a foolish mage.

“Dark Écriture: Fear!” Freed’s disembodied voice echoed unsettlingly within the maze and Morgana quickly brought up her fan.

“Acid Écriture: Repel!” A spiraling shield of acid green runes reflected the fear away, rebounding back towards whence it came.

Morgana picked up her pace, no longer willing to spend any further in this illusion. She had to admit, Freed possessed some serious talent if his illusions were this thorough.

“Dark Écriture: Pain!”

“Repel!” Again Morgana reflected the sinister purple rune. She rounded a corner and _finally_ located her destination: the very center of the maze, where a wall of shimmering violet symbols illuminated her face and the surrounding walls in a faint purple. 

Freed was skilled indeed, but, Morgana smirked; it was time to end this little game. “Acid Écriture: Erosion!”

The acidic runes splashed against the wall of amethyst. Instantly, the green began eating away at the purple, slowly creeping its way along the wall. The acid runes devoured their dark counterpart with a sadistic sort of glee, pleased to be given such a palatable fare by their magnanimous Mistress.

Centimeter by painful centimeter, the illusion eroded away. Freed had to clench his teeth against the unpleasant sensation of his runes being corroded and consumed by Morgana’s wicked magic. Through the ragged holes in his eroding mirage, Freed saw the shark-toothed grin on Morgana’s face.

“Well that was really quite impressive.” Morgana inclined her head to Freed. “Most of the rune mages I have encountered over the years were not even capable of half the power of that illusion. Nicely done.” She flicked her fan, exposing the serrated blades studding the top lining. “But really, mirages and hallucinations are dull. Shall we proceed to more stimulating exercises?” A flick of the wrist. “Acid Écriture: Splash!”

Freed jumped from place to place as a shower of green letterings pelted at him. As the runes hit either the ground or the solid debris littering the field, they splattered like raindrops on flower petals. The minimized rune droplets sizzled as they hit various things and Freed noticed how they dissolved whatever they hit.

“Dark Écriture: Protect!” Dark runes coated him akin to a second skin. As the little drops of acid smattered against his shield, the rune mage felt his own runes beginning to corrode. Freed whipped his rapier up and slashed his own spell. 

“Dark Écriture: Cage!” A wall of purple symbols converged around Morgana, trapping her in an invisible prison.

_Those inside this barrier are imprisoned indefinitely._

Morgana curled her fingers into a fist and slammed it against Freed’s barrier. The transparent container flexed and bent with the force of her punch, but did not even waver in its conviction to follow its Master’s orders and keep her caged. She frowned at the strength of Freed’s spell. There was only one way she could free herself so she set up her counter-spell.

“Acid Écriture: Rewrite!” Her acidic symbols came into existence, forcibly infusing themselves with the dark symbols and transforming them.

“ _What_?” Freed snapped. “How are you doing this? How can you just rewrite what I have done without unraveling my spell?”

“Simple.” Morgana fixed her intense emerald gaze on her opponent. “My runes are capable of rewriting the rules. However, I cannot rewrite them completely. I can only put in stipulations that allow me to circumnavigate the original laws. Case and point.” She gestured to the new decree.

 _Only those who smile can walk free, all others are imprisoned indefinitely._  

Morgana smiled, wide and sweet, and walked right out of Freed’s trap. At Freed’s glower, she continued her explanation. “I can only do this for myself. All others _must_ obey the original laws, as you already understand. But whoever writes the rules, wins the game.” She grinned at the flicker of recognition in Freed’s turquoise eyes.

“So you can erode runes and rewrite rules.” Freed glared at her. “Quite the advantage, I would say.”

Morgana laughed. “And I would agree. Although, I _do_ have my shortcomings.” Her lips pursed in irritation. “Any shield, barrier, or prison I create will lack fortitude. Certainly, they will not be as robust as your own. And I cannot create any illusions or influences that would withstand a strong mind. You best me in those aspects.” She tilted her head. “Some would consider those flaws trivial in all manner of things. But you and I, as Rune Masters, know the value of such skills.”

Freed nodded. “So I do. Why would you design a magic that is inadequate in those areas, especially a rune magic?”

Morgana shrugged, tucking a strand of soaking scarlet hair behind her ear. “I am adept at destruction. Why should that not reflect in my magic?” As the rune mage raised her fan, the half-light glinted on the serrated blades. “But I do believe that is enough talk, no? Shall we recommence this bout?”

 

* * *

 

Descartes couldn’t keep his expression devoid of verve. He felt the influx of energy with each annihilation of his shades. These silly Fairies had no idea they were giving him power the more they fought against him.

He warped to a fallen steeple and observed the battle-torn town. Pride welled up when he saw his mages dominating the worthless Fairies, despite how much of a fight they put up. Of course, he still shouldn’t underestimate these tenacious insects; rumors always speak of Fairy Tail mages’ resilience and determination.

A dark grey aura pulsed around him as more energy was leeched from the Fairy mages. Descartes inhaled and exhaled in bliss, reveling in the feeling of power. His magick purred and curled about his lanky frame. We will soon have enough, it hummed in sick delight, just a little further now. 

A sinister smile snuck its way onto the man’s mouth. Thunder raged through the sky, lighting flashed in the clouds; the rain fell harder and the air grew stifling as the storm made its displeasure clear. Descartes gently stroked his magick when it exposed its power in smug defiance, mocking the magickal squall with all its twisted glory.

The master of the Gypsy’s Hoard chuckled at the outrage of the primeval magick in the face of his own magick’s audacity. It mattered not how powerful these ancient energies thought themselves to be; he would soon bring them to heel. A tan hand slicked back soaked hair from his face.

“Now where, oh where could that Lilliputian geezer be?” Descartes sang to himself. “I’m waiting~”

As if on cue, a furious shout echoed. “Descartes!” The man in question grinned, not looking back at the angry fellow guild master. “How _dare_ you attack my town? My _children_! You will pay for your misdeeds!”

Descartes finally turned. Makarov, despite his diminutive size, had a magnificent presence about him. The soul mage wondered if a Wizard Saint would have enough soul energy to complete the necessary reserves he required in order to be able to use the sigil his lovely wife had drawn for him.

You could say he was eager to find out.

“Ah, Makarov!” Descartes exclaimed. “What a lovely happenstance! Though,” he added with an unimpressed brow rise, “I am a bit surprised it took you this long to locate my whereabouts. Are you not a Wizard Saint?” The lanky mage tapped his chin in mock speculation. 

Makarov struggled to rein his temper; this man had dared to put his brats in serious danger. The aging wizard winced at the surge of fury blasting from the magicks coiling in the air and in the tempest overhead. He absently noted that Gray must be having a severely strenuous battle with all this magickal fluctuation tampering with his own magic.

“No matter,” Descartes waved a hand dismissively, “you are here now and that is what is important.” His magick skipped to his hands at his summoning. “I hope you are prepared, Makarov, for this fight will determine whether or not your precious _children_ will be safe from my touch.”

Golden light encompassed the elderly guild master. Eyes, once a dark color, shone gold. The mage grew in size; and grew and grew and grew until he was easily five times his normal height. Descartes smile turned manic at the thought of facing the Fairy Master’s legendary Giant Magic.

Dark grey energy swarmed about his hands as Makarov bore down on him. The Giant threw a massive fist at the other male and Descartes neatly avoided it. Quick as lightning, however, Makarov threw another punch. Descartes had to raise both hands and conjure a shield in order to protect himself from broken bones.

As Makarov reeled back slightly from smashing his fingers into the hardened shield, Descartes pounced. He ducked under the hulking mage’s arm and placed a palm on the old man’s chest.

“Soul Force!” A force of pure soul energy pulsed out from Descartes’ fingers and struck Makarov, sending the Giant stumbling backwards with a groan.

Yet Makarov was not to be deterred. He retaliated with a vengeance, arms a blur as he lashed out at the enemy guild master. Descartes grunted as a few of the blows hit home.

Makarov pulled back his hand suddenly and a ball of fire sprung to life. Descartes dove to the side to dodge the offending flame and cursed Makarov’s proficiency with magic as he ended up dodging more than one type of projectile thrown at him. 

The soul mage quickly pulled on his magic. “Soul Spirits!” Corporeal manifestations of snarling, spiritual wolves ran to Makarov, their crooked maws dripping saliva. The old wizard smacked them away with his large hands and kicked them; his strikes dissolved the spirits into nothingness.

A lucky wolf sank its jaws into Makarov’s bicep and the guild master yelled. Skin tore, muscle shredded, bone cracked, and blood spurted from the wound. As the contact period with living flesh extended, the wolf’s form began to lose its corporeality. Makarov knew that if he didn’t liberate his arm before the wolf lost its ‘body’, it would remain and continue to mangle his already ruined arm and he would not be able to stop it. So the old mage reached up, ignoring the searing pain of his bicep, and grasped the wolf’s neck. He clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw cracked as he ripped the infernal spirit free. Slamming the creature against the ground, he took immense satisfaction as it burst apart with a whimper.

Descartes had been watching the entire exchange with a pleasured expression. What Makarov hadn’t realized, was that the wolf had been draining his soul energy with that bite. Descartes only had to sit back and enjoy the inflow of power with each gnaw from jagged teeth buried in Makarov’s arm.

Makarov turned back to his opponent. Using his vast knowledge of magic, he iced over the horrid wound. He felt a bit sluggish from the attack, and he had a feeling it wasn’t from blood loss. His suspicions were likely confirmed by the smug, rejuvenated look on Descartes’ countenance.

Well now _that_ was infuriating.

As though he hadn’t been injured at all, Makarov backslapped the damned soul mage before the other man could even register his intent to attack. Descartes crashed into a nearby townhouse. His momentum from Makarov’s Giant Magic counted for enough force to actually bring the building crumbling down to the ground, burying him. 

Revenge is _sweet_.

The reprieve didn’t last long, unfortunately. In an explosion of grey energy, Descartes freed himself from his confines and streaked towards Makarov.

“Soul Viper!” Makarov didn’t react quick enough. A pinching sensation on his side transformed to a wretched burning. There was no question now; his energy was being drained, sucked out of him and released into the air to be collected by Descartes. 

Makarov fell to one knee. “W-what?” he groaned, voice distorted by his Giant form.

Descartes’ smile was wicked and cruel. “It’s a little something that I call Soul Viper. Much like a snake, I release a venom into your bloodstream. As it flows through you body, it drains your energy, releasing it into the air via your own magical output; it continues until either I gather a sufficient amount of energy and thus require no more, or it kills you. Incredible, isn’t it?”

Dread filled Makarov. He can’t afford to be debilitated like this! His children need him! But he felt the malevolent magick searing in his veins. He _felt_ its sadism as it contorted and corrupted his magic output to expel his own energy. His magic pleaded for forgiveness even as it fought with all its might against the invader. The aging guild master tried to soothe his poor magic, it wasn’t its fault after all, and tried to stand and ignore the pain.

Descartes had to admit, the Fairy Master impressed him. It took quite a bit of moxie to withstand his Viper. However, now was not the time for sentiment. And anyways, any sentiment was reserved for his soulmate. Descartes raised his hand, palm out and coated with grey energy.

“I wonder how your Fairies would fare if they suddenly lost their master.”

“You say that as if we would let that happen.” An unknown voice snarled, tone reinforced by the timely rumble of righteous thunder. Descartes clenched his teeth in annoyance as he turned to the new arrival. 

Tall, broad shouldered, muscular, blond hair, enraged blue eyes, a lightning scar. Spiked headphones sparked with electricity and lighting crackled along his flesh.

“L-Laxus,” Makarov gritted out, “g-go,”

“Ah shut up, old man,” Laxus snapped impatiently. “You,” he growled at Descartes, “why the fuck are you doing this? Actually, you know what,” he amended immediately, “I don’t give a fuck why you’re here. All I care about is beating your ass into _dust_!” The last word was a fearsome roar akin to that of a raging dragon.

“Lightning Dragon Roar!” Descartes yelped as the destructive beam of lightning nearly fried him. To his consternation, Laxus’ roar followed him as he ran. He screamed as his arm was hit with the last dredges of the blast, the electricity blistering his nerves. The surrounding area was burnt to a satisfying crisp from Laxus’ roar and Descartes could see there was more where that came from.

Lightning converged into Laxus’ raised palms, arcing between the two as it powered up. Laxus screamed as he released it at Descartes. “Lightning Dragon Heavenward Halberd!”

Descartes refused to be shown up by a _child_. “Energy Collect and Convert!” The enormous lightning spear hurtled at Descartes, who didn’t even move, instead holding up his hands in what looked like an attempt to actually _catch_ the spear. A funnel of energy twisted between his hands, absorbing the spear as it slammed into his chest. While most of the energy was collected and converted to something Descartes could use, he still was exposed to the sheer force of the attack and was not spared from the resounding, albeit seriously weakened, electrocution.

Laxus took grave pleasure in hearing his enemy scream in agony due to his lightning. His Dragon roared in triumph at Descartes’ pain and accepted more power from the frenetic tempest. The lightning mage was already prickled by leaving Freed behind—he knew where his grandfather was headed and he _refused_ to let Freed anywhere _near_ this lunatic—and the added offense at seeing Makarov subject to something so _wrong_ as soul-drain only incensed him further.

This cretin would _pay_. _No one_ fucked with Laxus and those he considered important to him. 

Descartes twitched as he recovered from that last strike. A crazed grin stretched his mouth. What _power_! Already powerful from the Dragon’s magic, but to have that power increased by a lightning storm?! Incredible! Astounding! Extraordinary!

We could collar the ancient magicks with these two wizards alone, his magick whispered into his ear. Think of all the things we could do with this _power_!

“Glorious, simply _glorious_!” Descartes giggled, head tilting back to gaze at Laxus. “Gaining a power-up from this storm; and a storm conjured by the primordials no less!” He grabbed his face with both hands as he laughed to himself. “To think, if I took the energy of this little Dragon and that old geezer, I can easily power the sigil and control the primeval magicks! And when I do,” he laughed harder as his magick murmured promises into his ear, “I can test my control on these pitiful Fairies!” He removed his hands and a twisted grin contorted his face. “They’d be brilliant guinea pigs, wouldn’t you say?”

Lighting scorched the mud Laxus stood upon as he understood the man’s implications. Sure, he wasn’t overly friendly with most of Fairy Tail, but there were a few of the other mages aside from the Thunder God Tribe that he could admit a strange attachment to. And most importantly, _Freed_ was amongst this psycho’s “guinea pigs” and that was _not fucking okay_.

Laxus and his Dragon reared themselves to strike this man _down_ when a raspy voice behind him halted him in his tracks.

“You _dared_ to meddle with forces you cannot hope to control. You _dared_ to come to my town and harm the innocents here. You _dared_ to threaten my brats. And now you **_dare_** _to bring_ _true harm to my children_?!” Makarov brought his hands to his chest, cupping the ball of magic that formed there. Blinding white light shone from the ball of magic and the wind billowed the old mage’s coat. “ ** _For the atrocities you have committed towards my town, my brats, and the ancient magicks, you shall witness my judgment_**!”

Laxus backtracked until he stood behind his grandfather. A quick survey of the battlefield showed that all of the other combatants had paused to watch Makarov cast his spell.

Descartes was in heaven. He was seeing it; finally seeing it! Fairy Tail’s sacred spell, _Fairy Law_! _What_ a day this has been. His magick faded him from existence and he crept up on Makarov, accounting for the old geezer to be completely focused on casting Fairy Law. 

A golden magic circle appeared in Makarov’s eyes. “Fairy—“ The Wizard Saint broke of with a choked gasp. Descartes smiled. His hand protruded from Makarov’s chest via an soul-energy connection. Wallowing in the sybaritic glee of victory, Descartes sucked the energy right out of Makarov and right out of Fairy Law.

The elderly guild master shuddered violently. His magic shrieked in agony at Fairy Law’s abrupt stop and lay quivering in a wounded sprawl. He worriedly called it, wanting, _needing_ , to know that it was all right and his heart sank at its weak reply. The magic held by Fairy Law was now subject to Descartes’ whims and Makarov longed to scream to the heavens because even now he could still feel that wretched venom coursing through his blood, sneering at him. 

Laxus could only watch as Fairy Law was snuffed out right before his eyes. He had never seen that spell cut off like that, never heard of Fairy Law being overwhelmed by anything. Nothing could defeat that spell; not even another Wizard Saint, he had heard. So how...? His Dragon snarled at Descartes and Laxus agreed. Just what kind of depraved magic did this fiend _use_ that was able to snuff out a holy spell like Fairy Law?

Descartes removed his hand from Makarov’s chest and the old wizard slumped to the ground, unmoving. 

“Oh my,” Descartes moaned when the light fully died, “that was _delicious_.” He turned a villainous smile towards the downed Makarov and the horrified Laxus. “What’s with the faces? Did you honestly believe I would be defeated that easily? I am a wielder of an ancient magick, one that the world sought to destroy all evidence of! I have the ability to control the primal energies and you honestly believed I would be conquered by a holy spell? I admit,” he added, “Fairy Law is indeed impressive, just not enough.”

“Now then,” he raised a brow at Laxus, “what’s say you Dragonslayer? Will you continue to fight now that your master has fallen? Can you withstand against me now that I contain the power of Fairy Law?” At Laxus’ look, the man laughed. “Oh yes. Even Fairy Law contains, as _all_ magic does, soul-energy; I can feel that, you know? And now it’s mine.”

Descartes summoned the magical energy he stole from Makarov and it pulsed in his hand, a soft gold amidst the smoky grey.

“Now little Dragonslayer, I wonder how long you will last.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have no idea if Fairy Law is able to be interrupted like that, but hey, this is fiction so I'm taking a few liberties. As for Mira's strength: she is very strong, but she's not invincible. I didn't want her to just be able to one-hit-kill people in this 'verse, so sorry to all those disappointed!  
> And if anyone is confused: in this 'verse, all magic is "sentient" and its energy is directly connected to a mage's soul, hence why Descartes seems a pretty unfairly overpowered.  
> Anyway, finals are starting to rear their ugly heads so updates will continue to be sporadic.  
> I really do apologize for that, but as I said before, college comes first.  
> I truly appreciate all of you and your patience with me and my lousy updating schedule!
> 
> I'll see you next chapter! Thanks for reading!


	7. The Blood of Our Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings world! I come bearing Chapter VII!  
> Shorter chapter here. A bit dull, but necessary, unfortunately.  
> I don't like how this turned out, but that might have been because I just wanted to get this chapter over with in order to reach the next one...  
> On a unrelated note, I am calmly panicking about Finals Week. I doubt I'll be leaving the library for the entire Week. 
> 
> But I digress. Please enjoy the chapter!

 

“I-Ice Make: Gungnir!” Gray yelled. The frozen spear pierced Henrik, shooting ice across the other man and freezing his twisters solid. Gray sank to his knees, panting heavily. Minute tremors wracked his beaten frame and his magic slumped against him, utterly exhausted from fighting and withstanding the summons of the primeval energies.

“N-not bad, G-Gray,” Henrik wheezed as he freed himself. He, too, knelt to the ground to catch his breath. “I can s-see why you are so sk-skilled.”

Gray didn’t answer, more focused on regaining his waning energy. Although, what was the point, really? Makarov was down and without him everything seemed so hopeless...

 _No!_ Gray snapped to himself. _Don’t think like that! Master would be furious if we gave up just because he got taken out._ Gray gently nudged his magic. The icy signature sluggishly responded and sympathy flooded Gray. He apologized for pushing his magic so hard when it had already been hurting so badly before the fight even began. A whisper of chill in the form of a hug told him that his beloved magic didn’t harbor any ill will, only that it needed rest.

A tug on his container had him groaning and his magic keening. Gray knew what was calling out to him and his magic; he knew, but didn’t want to respond because he was...afraid. He was afraid of the magicks that reached out to him. He was afraid of the power they wielded and he was afraid his magic would be injured devastatingly if it interacted with them. After all, in spite of that icy signature being a little powerhouse, it was still only magic. And the forces that were beseeching his dear ice were infinitely more mighty than his own.

Normal magic cannot endure prolong exposure to the primordial magicks; they just do not have enough substance within themselves to remain unscathed. Best-case scenario, the normal magic is marked, able to be recognized and used once again by the primevals. Worst case, the ordinary magic is either disintegrated into nothingness or completely absorbed into the primal’s magickal energy. One way or another, the magic of a mage is never the same after contact with the ancients. 

Gray refused to have his magic subject to their whims. He would not let his magic suffer their inadvertent cruelty, even if it killed him. But what if we need them? His magic nuzzled against him. What if they are our only hope of saving our family? What will we do then?

Gray didn’t have an answer.

Not far from where the ice mage sat, two Dragonslayers were catching their own breaths. Sting had an arm wrapped around Rogue’s waist, holding his mate up as the Shadow Dragonslayer panted.

“Damn,” Sting grunted, “I didn’t think those behemoths would take that much magic to kill.” He glanced over to see the two combatants at a stalemate of exhaustion. “Looks like Gray’s worn him out.” 

Rogue nodded tiredly. “So he has, but he himself is worn down as well. As are we. We’re going to have to be careful of how much magic we use in the future.” Sting nodded absently.

All across the battlefield, mages were struggling to remain standing.

Cana leaned against a crumbling wall, hands trembling as she clutched her cards in a white knuckled grip. Sweat beaded her forehead and bags were beginning to show under her eyes.

“Cana,” a gruff voice caught her attention and she wearily turned to it, “you still alive?”

“Yeah,” she puffed, “for now anyway.” Macao grinned tiredly at her words, looking severely worse for wear.

“Well put dying on the back burner.” He set a bracing hand on her shoulder. “We may have destroyed all the bone soldiers and the shades, but we’ve still got the actual guild mages to deal with.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the card mage muttered. “I think they’re all taken care of for now. Well,” she amended, “at least that bone mage is, courtesy of Mira kicking his ass!”

“But she’s now down for the count as well.” Macao pointed out with a sigh. “At least Erza’s still fighting that one guy; but how the hell does she have so much energy?”

“Who knows,” Cana placed a hand against the wall to steady herself as she straightened up, “she’s Erza.”

Macao lent an arm and, for once, Cana didn’t pitch a fit about being able to take care of herself. She merely grabbed onto his arm and gratefully accepted his support. Together, the mages hobbled through the ravaged town, grimacing at the worn bodies of collapsed mages.

“Did we lose anyone?” Cana murmured, looking out at all the fallen mages. 

“Not that I’ve heard.” Macao replied. Releasing Cana, he limped over to one of the downed forms and checked for a pulse. A sigh of relief escaped him when he easily found one. He stood and studied the others, taking note of positive signs of life. “Looks like they just collapsed from exhaustion. Or, overexertion more likely, seeing as those shades leeched our energy from us.”

They continued on. Each sector of the town they passed, Cana and Macao encountered more drained mages from all the guilds in that came.

“Damn,” Macao cursed, “those shades really did a number on us.” He shuddered slightly. “I can still feel them sucking out my energy even now.”

Cana clenched a fist. “And with the master down, things aren’t going to be easy.” She glared at the ground as she staggered along with the older mage. “We need to get these bastards out of our town, now!”

“We will, Cana,” Macao reassured the fiery girl, “Erza, Gray, and the others will beat the Gypsy guild mages. And Laxus is taking care of their master from what I’ve heard.”

The duo advanced through the ruined town, heading to the infirmary at the old marketplace. The old pink haired mage looked up at their entrance and glared at them.

“Wonderful,” she muttered crossly, “more of them.” 

Cana ignored the crotchety woman’s remark. “Have you heard anything about the master?”

Porlyusica’s glared intensified. “If I did, don’t you think I’d be where he was? No,” she snapped, “I have heard nothing new. What I did hear is that he is still breathing and functioning. Whatever he was hit with will take a while to actually kill him. He has a lot of magic.”

Cana and Macao exchanged a look. “How did you—“ Macao started, but the elderly mage cut him off sharply.

“Descartes practically shouted it to the heavens. Weren’t you listening?” she asked waspishly. The other mages did their damnedest to not incur her wrath further and remained silent.

Away from the center of the crumbling Magnolia, lightning flashed and blinded the sky.

Laxus stood his ground in front of his fallen grandfather. Makarov was still clinging to life like the stubborn old geezer he was. The lightning mage knew that his grandfather wouldn’t be bested by such a repugnant mage like Descartes. His Dragon bared its teeth at Descartes, eyes glazed with a fatigue that was mirrored in its mage. 

Laxus’ limbs quivered and his muscles shook. His Dragon curled around him as they stared down a smirking Descartes. 

Descartes’ smirk widened at the sight of the young Dragonslayer’s ferocious glare. Inwardly, however, he was raging. How? _How_? How was that blasted fossil still alive?! His venom should have killed him! He, Descartes, should be drowning the magical power of a Wizard Saint!

He tilted his head as he considered the young man in front of him. This Dragonslayer was resilient; not caving once when struck with his soul-draining spells. This Fairy would be a fantastic addition to his collection of magical energy alongside the old, fallen wizard.

Descartes peered inward and considered his magickal reserves. His magick hovered around the empty containers pointedly. These need to be filled, it gestured to the extra empty containers; we need more magical energy to be able to power the sigil. Collect more, it insisted. Descartes stroked his magick soothingly.

Collect more, you say? Descartes’ eyes flickered over to the battleground where his mages continued to fight valiantly against he Fairies, then over to where a large group of still-conscious mages lingered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Dragonslayer shift and grimace in pain. 

Descartes needed more soul-energy and he would get it. Starting with this lightning mage. The lanky man’s magick swelled up around him in sadistic anticipation. Descartes turned to Laxus. “Well, Dragonslayer,” he drawled, “I simply must thank you. You certainly know how to keep a wizard entertained. But, unfortunately, I’m afraid I must cut our time short. I don’t have the amount of energy I need, so I will be taking it right now.” 

Dark grey energy swirled between his fingers. Laxus and his Dragon tensed in preparation for the battle. The lightning mage didn’t trust this fucker as far as he could throw him; he wouldn’t be caught off guard. 

The soul mage raised his palms. “Soul Magick: Soul Leech!” The dark grey energy pulsed towards Laxus. The blond raised his own hands, crackling with electricity.

As the magick streaked nearer, Laxus released his electricity. The yellow lightning stretched forward and collided with the soul spell. However, the electricity merely phased right through the spell and scorched the earth below. The grey magick struck Laxus dead in the chest.

A strangled gasp escaped the blond before an agonized scream was ripped from his lips. Laxus’ muscles seized and he fell to the ground, writhing in agony as his soul, his magic, his very life force, was drained dry. A dark grey aura streaked with red surrounded a blissful Descartes. As the spell drained Laxus of everything, the stolen energy flowed into the guild master.

“Oh my,” he cried out, “so much magic power!” The soul mage didn’t bother keeping his pleasure to himself.

Laxus, on the other hand, had never felt anything as violating as what Descartes was doing to him. Not even his own father slicing him open to insert a Dragon lacrima into his chest cavity had felt as terrible and repulsive as this. His Dragon roared in anguish, feeling itself being separated from its mage. Laxus reached out to his Dragon, wanting to reassure it that he wouldn’t leave no matter what; needing to know that it was still there.

On and on, the spell continued, until Laxus thought for sure it would kill him. Just when he believed he and his Dragon had nothing left to give to this maniac, the spell slowly relinquished its hold on him and faded. His Dragon crumpled to the ground with a faint whimper. Laxus used his remaining strength to reach for it and gently place a hand on its neck.

Descartes sighed in bliss when his spell stopped. A quick peek at his energy stores showed that, while Laxus’ power was great, it wasn’t even nearly enough. More, his magick purred, we need more.

But where to get it, Descartes pondered. There are plenty of sources, his magick referred to the still conscious and fighting Fairies. Oh yes, Descartes grinned darkly, they’ll do just nicely.

Raising his hands once more, he repeated his spell. “May all those who do not bear the mark of the Gypsy’s Hoard surrender their soul-energy to me!”

Laxus couldn’t even summon the power to lift his head, let alone warn anyone. Frustration steamed in his veins; he felt so _useless_! Gramps was down for the count, his Dragon had fallen unconscious—he didn’t even know magic could _do_ that—and now this crazy bastard was targeting his guild and the others—was targeting _Freed_! He tried to force himself up, to stop that sinister dark fog from reaching his mate and their friends. But to no avail; he was powerless and magic-less and _tired_. He attempted to shut out the sounds of his screaming guildmates, desperately trying not to hear that one voice crying out in pain.

Descartes felt the surge of energy inflow and laughed. He _knew_ these Fairies would be the perfect test subjects for a spell like this! And yet... 

And yet. _It still was **not enough**_. How could it not be enough?! Descartes wanted to rip his hair out in sheer vexation. He was so close, _so **close**_. He needed more, but from where? And how?

His magick coiled around his neck, whispering in his ear. There is one way to get what you need, it crooned; use the spell, the one you daren’t try. It will get you what you need. And who knows? A sly smirk. You may just be lucky enough to rid this world of these irritating Fairies!

Descartes was frozen; could he try that spell? _No!_ he screamed to himself, _I have done enough! If I use that spell, Esmeralda will never forgive me!_ But haven’t you done all of this for her? 

His magick persisted. _Use it_ , it insisted. Use it and gather the last dredges of power you need to activate the sigil! You _do_ want to control the primeval magicks, don’t you? Why not do this? That way we _both_ get what we want. 

The lanky mage’s grin widened to sickening proportions as he was persuaded. Yes, that spell would certainly do the job. And, really, wouldn’t it be _easier_ if he just used the Fairies to power the spell? His dear wife and his family wouldn’t even be caught in the crossfire!

Descartes needed no more words. He reached for the magick required for that spell. He pooled it into his sweaty palms. His magick leaned back out of the way, feeling triumphant at the mere thought of _finally_ using this spell, _finally_ getting what it had been waiting for ever since it came to be with this mage.

The Master of the Gypsy’s Hoard lifted his arms and spoke in a loud, steady voice. “Forbidden Magick: Spirit Reaper.” 

And the soul magick grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this sort-of-cliffhanger while the author drowns herself in Finals.  
> I'm excited about writing the next chapter! I've been wanting to write it for weeks, but I've held myself back. I didn't want to totally rush the previous chapters. (Ha, I probably did anyway)  
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you thought!
> 
> Thank you all who have read this story! You all are awesome, seriously.  
> I also can't possibly thank you enough for your continued patience with me. I'll update as soon as I can!


	8. Shattered Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter VIII is finally here!  
> Ok, first of all: I am terribly sorry for the long wait. I had Finals Week to contend with, and then there was a surprise trip to Denver, CO.  
> Second of all: I am so happy to get to the idea that spawned this whole mess! :D  
> And lastly: I hope this chapter is up to standards. It wasn't how I had originally planned, but I thought it was pretty decent
> 
> And that's enough of me yammering. Enjoy!

 

_The Master of the Gypsy’s Hoard lifted his arms and spoke in a loud, steady voice. “Forbidden Magick: Spirit Reaper.”_

_And the soul magick grinned._

 

* * *

 

A blood red magick, pulsating like a beating heart, rocketed into the air and burst, sending fist-sized shards out onto the main battleground.

The fragments streaked towards their targets with a frightening intensity. They slammed into their victims’ chests and burrowed into their very souls. The targets screamed as the magic began wrenching the souls from the mages, rupturing the ties the souls had with the magic. The reaper spell severed the soul from the mage, extracting it with all the finesse of an amateur surgeon. The harvesting mutilated the magic of the target mages and left the victims with absolutely nothing to hold their very selves together.

When the souls were dragged back to the mage who casted this gruesome spell, the bodies of the victims began to crack and dissolve into dust, eyes wide and lifeless.

 

* * *

 

She staggered as a ball of crimson slammed into her chest. Instantly, agony enveloped her form. Frozen, all she could do was clutch at her chest, trying to hold her bleeding magic inside her. Her very bones were shaking from the amount of pain wracking through her. Crippled, mutilated wisps of magic seeped through her fingers, dripping onto the muddy terrain with a splash of finality.

She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to do something— _anything_ —than think of the sickening feeling of sheer and utter betrayal.

A fierce jerk on her soul granted her wish. A horrid scream ripped from her throat, deafening her own ears with its pitch. Hands scrabbled at her chest, simultaneously attempting to tear out her soul and trying to keep it inside. At this point, she wasn’t sure which option she would have preferred.

She sank to her knees; her scarlet hair hid her face, long since fallen from her up-do.

How? How could he do this? Weren’t they supposed to be family? 

A tearing sound and more pain seared through her veins. She didn’t think her body could handle any more agony—it was already trembling and writhing and she felt her heart stuttering worriedly. Her magic wrapped itself around the soul protruding from her torso in a feeble attempt to keep it inside. The cursed invader sneered at her magic’s pathetic efforts and easily blasted a hole straight through the magic.

Her hands quickly shot up to catch the falling pieces of her mangled magic and cradled them to her heart. A glance down; how could there be nothing visible when it felt as if her entire torso had been wrenched violently open? There was no blood, no bone, no ruptured flesh, nothing. Yet here she was holding her bleeding, butchered magic and watching numbly as her soul was rived from her.

Morgana forced her gaze over to her guild master, her _friend_. “N-no,” she whispered. Her body listed to the side and she collapsed to the ground, the magickal rain already beginning to wash away the fragments of mutilated magic.

Green eyes stared sightlessly at the dark sky. The empty husk that once contained a soul started to slowly dissolve.

 

* * *

 

Natsu stood, panting, and staring at the little girl who sprawled across the ground. She was laughing softly to herself as she painfully fixed herself into a sitting position.

“Well, you won, Natsu,” she wheezed, eyes bright. “You are so _awesome_!” She gushed. “Do you think you could teach me some of your moves?” Natsu wanted to snap, _‘No! You hurt my friends and my mate! I would never teach you anything!’_ but he couldn’t find it within himself to deny her hopeful look.

“Maybe,” he muttered finally, fighting the urge to succumb to exhaustion. 

“Hooray!” Mellie cheered, waving her arms in, albeit weary, excitement. She got shakily to her feet. “When can we—“ her words cut off as a red ball crashed into her chest, sending her staggering. Pain blossomed immediately as that crimson force delved into her. Mellie screamed and her Dragon roared to the skies. The great beast that was her magic fought with all its remaining might against the inward foe, but its fatigue from the battle didn’t let it put up much of a fight. The invader lashed out at Mellie’s Dragon and sliced open its hide. Tears pricked Mellie’s blue eyes when her Dragon crumpled to the earth with a pained cry.

Another fierce tug on her soul had Mellie adding her agony to her Dragon’s. 

Natsu stood by, helpless, as the little girl hit the mud with and writhed in agony. He rushed to help, but his Dragon halted his movements. Natsu whipped a glare at his magic. “What are you _doing_?” he snarled. “She needs help! We can’t just stand here and do nothing!” Natsu’s Dragon turned its own glare at him. We can’t touch that magic, or the same will happen to us! And then where would we be? Where would our _mate_ be? 

Natsu cursed, despising his magic’s logic and pragmatism. But he was also aware that his magic knew there wasn’t much he could do for Mellie. 

The girl in question had rolled painfully onto her stomach and pushed herself to her feet. Face streaked with tears, she stumbled across the battlefield, not even noticing the wizard following her in worry. “Ully, Ully,” she gasped as she tripped and fell to her knees. She achingly stood once again and continued her path to the only source of comfort she had left. 

As she neared Ullrych, she couldn’t stop herself from looking towards the man she had once loved so dearly. With betrayal in her heart and in her eyes, she whimpered, “Why, Papa? Why are you doing this?!” She screamed again as the evil magick wrenched her soul out of her body, rending the ties it shared with her Dragon. The beast roared hoarsely and its head hit the dirt with a resounding sound of finality.

Mellie cried as her soul was stolen from her. The last thing she felt before her life faded was the warm circle of familiar arms.

 

* * *

 

Ullrych cradled the small body in his arms. “Mellie,” he whispered, “Mellie, wake!” he tried not to stare at her lifeless blue eyes. If he didn’t see them, then he wouldn’t have to believe his little Dragon’s fate. If he didn’t see those once-bright eyes devoid of the light of life, then he wouldn’t have to realize his Mellie was dead. Tears slipped, unbidden, from closed eyes. 

So numb was he that the dark skinned man didn’t even feel as the crimson magick hit his chest and burrow deep inside him. He didn’t feel as it began to sever his soul from his magic and his self. The pain was absent, but the feeling was there and Ullrych cursed the man he had formerly respected. 

“You godsdamned _monster_ ,” he spat, dark eyes already dimming, “how could you? _How dare you_!”

Ullrych hugged the little body closer, heart clenching as he realized how far gone it was. His magic, weak from the vicious fight with the She Demon, struggled to stop his soul from being removed; but the attempt was half-hearted at best. Much like himself, his magic was devastated that Mellie was gone—it had always been so fond of the cheerful young Dragonslayer.

What was the point when the girl that had revived his smile was dead? What was the point when the man who had rescued you from yourself betrayed you so utterly?

The evil magick finally ripped his soul free and began to remove it fully from his body.

Ullrych embraced his numbness. He spared a thought for Esmeralda, who would have never wished a spell like this be used on anyone. His spared a thought for his guildmates, his dysfunctional family. He spared a thought for his enemies—and could they even be called that when they only fought to defend their town and themselves? And he spared a thought for Mellie, his Mellie, with whose death the world became darker.

Ullrych cradled the crumbling body of his little Dragon close to his chest as the life faded from his dark eyes.

 

* * *

 

Henrik convulsed as the red shard of magick seized his soul and started to wrest it free. His own magic swarmed up despite its tiredness and wrapped around Henrik in order to try and force the invading magick out. 

Gray tried to haul himself to his feet and help, but he was absolutely drained. His icy signature couldn’t even raise itself to assist its own mage, let alone a totally different one. “H-hey, Henrik,” Gray wheezed, but the screaming man ignored him.

“Leo-p-pold...” Henrik cried softly, digging one hand into the mud and dragging his quivering figure in the direction of his twin brother. “L-Leo...p-please...help me...”

Another jerk and a snap as a tendon of the bond between his magic and soul broke. Henrik screamed and writhed in agony, his magic curling in on itself as it tried to withstand the pain. The Wind Make Mage inhaled huge gulps of air and refocused himself. 

He had to reach his brother. Leopold had always protected him. Henrik knew that Leopold would keep him safe. He just had to reach him in time. 

So he disregarded the agony as best he could; disregarded the feeling of something burrowing through his chest and ripping and tearing and mutilating as it went. One hand landed on a chunk of a fallen building and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, the other hand preoccupied with holding both his soul and magic together inside him. 

Henrik staggered along, using the large debris around him to maintain his shaky balance. A ferocious tug sent him to his knees and the Wind Make mage felt the evil shred of magick yanking his soul free.

“No! How—why— _Brother, help me_!” Henrik screamed, frightened tears spilling from his eyes. Unable to even remain upright on his knees, Henrik collapsed onto his side. His vision went in and out of focus; he could have sworn he heard his brother yell his name, could have sworn he saw that familiar, reassuring figure sprinting towards him. 

But he wasn’t certain. What he _was_ certain of was the wretched feeling of his soul pulled from his body and abandoning him, leaving him to a desolate deadness. He didn’t even register the icy cold hand urgently shaking his shoulder and the smooth voice of his esteemed opponent pleading with him to hold on.

Henrik was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Leopold ran. Ran faster than he had even run before, faster than even his spurs could go. Yet, he wasn’t fast enough. He watched with wide, horrified eyes, as his brother toppled to the muddy earth and lay unmoving.

A furious, grief-stricken cry lacerated his throat in its escape. “ ** _HENRIK!_** ”

Leopold took a faltering, step towards his fallen brother, but turned at the last moment towards the man who had caused such agony to befall his brother. Fixing Descartes with his most vicious glare, Leopold didn’t bother to rein in his hatred.

“ _You fucking **bastard**! **I’ll kill you**!_ ” The Requip mage sprinted towards his treacherous guild master, intent on murdering that piece of devilish filth. He summoned his weapons, one in each hand; a deadly mace and a long claymore. Leopold leapt over debris and passed out wizards alike, totally ignoring the shard burrowing in his chest. He didn’t care that using his magic was speeding up the extraction process and boosted his speed even further.

Halfway to Descartes, Leopold faltered and stumbled to a stop. His weapons fell from nerveless hands and sank deep into the mud. The Requip mage clutched at his chest with a grimace and a pained wheeze. His magic quickly spirited the weapons back to Leopold’s storage and tried to help its mage, but the damage was already done. 

Leopold swayed where he stood, muscles and bones and nerves trembling. That sickening feeling of something rooting through his chest and carving out the most essential piece of him. He sank to his knees, panting, blood trickling from his nose and ears. He had overused his magic in that bout with the Fairy mage, had overused it now with foreign magic debilitating him.

The man relinquished his drive for revenge and focused only on one thing: reaching his brother. Leopold crawled to Henrik, tearing the skin on his hands on the pieces of rubble. He crawled across the earth, hauling himself towards the person that mattered most to him. He didn’t care that rare tears were staining his cheeks. His brother’s body was fading and Leopold needed to _get there_.

Leopold felt his soul leaving him. Just a little bit farther—he was so close! Just a metre further! “Henrik, _Henrik_ ,” he pleaded in a whisper, “ _please_ , Brother...” 

The Requip mage stretched his arm out in a last-ditch effort to grasp his brother’s hand. As the life left him, Leopold noted with crushing despair that his hand didn’t reach his brother’s.

 

* * *

 

Esmeralda stood frozen in disbelief. Watching as one by one, her guildmates, her _family_ , fell to her husband’s magick. How could he do this? How could he have used such an _evil_ spell?

She did not want this. She never wanted anything like this. She had just wanted her husband to return to his adorkable, loving self. Her silly bookworm who couldn’t turn a soul in need away. Who created a soul bond simply because he wanted to be together forever. Her bright-eyed scholar who didn’t understand the meaning of cruelty.

Where had he gone? What has this demonic magick done to her love?

She knew that if the rest of her family hadn’t seen any mercy from Vincenzo, then she wouldn’t either. A flash of crimson and Esmeralda saw the shard of magick making a beeline for her. She had to act fast. 

The former gypsy called upon her Time Magick. The ancient magick sprung easily to her fingertips, eager to be useful to the kind mage who commanded it. Digging through her repertoire, Esmeralda tugged out the circle containing her fail-safe.

Her Time Magick studied the proffered circle and, sensing its mage’s urgency, quickly slipped into the seams of the spell, filling in all of the lines and curves and weaves. Esmeralda gasped as the shard of Spirit Reaper pierced her torso and sank its claws into her soul. Agony engulfed her and she nearly stopped in her casting of her fail-safe, but she soldiered on, knowing it was the only way to keep her family safe. The magick circle glowed a faint silver as magick began to charge within it. 

The former gypsy turned to the magick she had never been fond of, but respected nonetheless. Please, she begged it, please keep charging that circle even when I’m gone. Charge it full and activate it as soon as it reaches its maximum magickal containment! The Time Magic hesitated, torn between following its mage’s wish and fighting to protect her. Eventually, her last request won out and Time agreed. 

Tears fell down Esmeralda’s cheeks. She didn’t know if they were of relief in her magick’s compliance, grief for her fallen guildmates, fear for herself, or sorrow for her poor husband. Her Plant Magic crept up and gently wiped a tear away with a weary wisp. The former gypsy hugged her magic—both of them—tightly, trying to stave off the fear flooding her as the shard shredded and tore the bindings that had encased her soul.

“My love, you have lost yourself,” she wept. “Forgive me for not being able to save you.” Gracelessly, she collapsed to the ground. Her body shuddered as her soul was wrenched from its place within her. Esmeralda wept softly, heart aching at the fact that she had to use her fail-safe, that she wasn’t able to even _begin_ to save her dear Vincenzo from the vile magick that had infected his self, that she had let her family down.

She screamed as her soul was torn out, spine arching in agony. Her body fell limply back down, life already gone before the rain had even washed away the last of her crystalline tears.

 

* * *

 

Descartes licked his lips as the souls came to him. The little balls of light, each the color of the magic of the mages, encircled him. One by one, they disappeared down his gullet. He reached out a hand and grasped the last one between his fingers with a gentleness that mocked the situation. 

“Oh you are lovely,” he purred to the pale green soul, “such a lovely colour, almost like my wife’s Plant Magic—“ he broke off and stared at the soul in his hands. “Exactly like my wife’s Plant Magic.” 

What? Why? _Why_ was Esmeralda’s soul _here_? 

Descartes rounded on his magic with teeth bared. “What is the meaning of this?” His eyes darted to his stomach, recalling that the soul colors had matched each of his mages’ magics. “Why are the souls of _my_ guild here and not those wretched Fairies’?! You promised that the forbidden magic would rid me of these pathetic Fairies!”

His magick hissed a laugh. No, it purred, I said you _might be lucky enough_ to destroy the Fairies with that spell. Evidently, you were not. The soul magick radiated smugness. I also told you that using the Fairies’ souls would have been the most painless way. However, you appear to be quite the glutton for punishment, no? So the souls of your guild it is. 

Descartes snarled ferally. “That was not part of the agreement!” His magick tilted itself in mock confusion. What agreement? I agreed to help you harness the ancient magicks while you agreed to give me souls to consume. A sly grin. You have met your part of the agreement, now it is time I fulfill mine. Consume the last soul and I shall help you command the ancient forces. 

Besides, his sinister magick added, you could never have made the spell work with the souls of these Fairies. 

Descartes paused and glared at the magick. “Why not?” he hissed. Because in order for a mage to use that forbidden spell, his magick laughed, you needed to have a soul bond with those whose souls you would consume! And you had a _perfect_ opportunity as soon as you formed those bonds with your guildmates! 

The Gypsy’s Hoard guild master tightened his hold on his wife’s soul. Remorse trickled in when he realized just what he had done. “N-no,” he whispered hoarsely, hugging the little ball that was Esmeralda. “This is not what I—“

Yes it is! His magick smacked him upside the head. It is _exactly_ what you wanted. Did you think you could gain something so monumental as control of the primordial magicks without sacrifice? Foolish! It spat at him.

His magick gentled. Do not make their sacrifice worthless, my mage. Make it mean something. It’s what they would have wanted. 

Descartes cradled Esmeralda. Her soul was such a lovely green. The color of her Plant Magic, the color of _life_. The color of her beautiful eyes. He slowly opened his mouth and swallowed his wife’s soul with the utmost of care.

No, he would not let her sacrifice be in vain. he would achieve his goal and make his wife proud. 

You are ready, his magick purred as it curled around him. You are ready to use that sigil your wife drew up for you.

Descartes grinned and excavated the sigil. An intricate white magick circle hovered in front of him. His fingertips brushed the outer rims and the magick inside him flooded the rings through his touch. With each ring, line, weave, and shape the magick crossed, the circle illuminated a blinding crimson, staining the previous white circle a dark red.

Once the entire circle was lit, Descartes removed his fingers. Closing his eyes, he held up his hands and inhaled deeply in anticipation. His eyes snapped open as he activated the spell, channeling his surplus into the circle to create a continuous cycle of magick. 

The effect was immediate and not at all what Descartes expected. Sure, he expected the ancient forces to be angry, furious even. He expected them to be resistant and defiant, not wanting at all to yield. But he hadn’t expected _this_. 

The primeval magicks _slammed_ into the sigil hard enough to make Descartes’s footing tremble. Their fury rained lightning and pounded thunder and shook the earth. Descartes grit his teeth and commanded the forces to yield to him.

You dare! _You dare to try and command us_? They hissed in such righteous fury that Descartes was taken aback. You are not _worthy_ to even summon us! How _dare_ you, you wretched cretin!

Descartes shivered at the might of their anger. What did they mean he wasn’t worthy to summon them? “I am worthy!” he insisted. “No one else could possibly be more worthy than I! I have studied, have gathered the power! Let me command you!”

Never, the primals snarled. You are stained with the corruption of one even we would not sully ourselves with. We will never submit to you.

The primordial magicks spurned Descartes presence, instead turning their attention to the sigil that was attempting to bind them. Never by one like you, pitiful human, they hissed. They rammed against the sigil over and over and over with such force that the sigil cracked and shattered in seconds. The magick that had been coursing through the circle was blasted outwards in a shockwave before being sucked back into Descartes.

The man had fallen to his knees in disbelief. He couldn’t summon the ancient magicks? He wasn’t worthy of summoning them? Red-hot anger seeped into his vision. Who did they think they were? There could be no one more capable of summoning the primordials than him—no one! He watched as the magick energy of the primal forces was heading towards the gathering of the Fairies and their allies.

Descartes’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Could one of them be able to summon the magicks? That was unacceptable.

He’ll just have to cure that malady. After all, he smirked to himself, it wasn’t like these pathetic Fairies and their friends had any spell that could stop him. He was immortal until he drained himself of all the souls he consumed.

Descartes stood and walked calmly towards the crowd of Fairies. His magick spread out before him and raced over the earth like a vengeful reaper.

Time to see if these little Fairies can withstand the might of a nigh immortal.

 

* * *

 

Gray felt the battering on his magic as he sat, horrified, near the remains of the disintegrating Henrik Orlov. His magic slumped in his lap and feebly tried to fend of the persistent calls.

The ice mage gently placed his hand on his magic and stroked it, soothing it as best he could, and smiled tiredly as it purred quietly. “What does it want?” He murmured to it. “This thing that keeps pestering you?”

His ice shivered and shifted closer, pressing against its mage and soaking up the comfort of his nearness. It wants our assistance, the icy signature answered, it wants us to use the forbidden spell to end this. 

Gray’s eyes slid shut. He knew; he had known that’s what it the magick knocking on his container had wanted. Now with Descartes practically immortal, he knew that that spell was the only thing that was going to stop the vile man. 

“All right,” Gray muttered, “but you’re explaining this to Natsu.” He chuckled ruefully. “He’s going to be so angry with us.”

Gray shakily stood, groaning as his muscles protested the course of action. The ice mage straightened up, his magic swirling around him in nervousness. “Okay,” he breathed, “okay. Here goes nothing.” He called the ancient magicks and flinched as they nearly bowled him over in their readiness to answer.

Gray reached for the ice magick in particular and waited as it surged up, gathering around him in a suffocating mass. He took a familiar stance: legs spread and slightly bent, right arm crossed over left and palm down, left crossed under right and palm up.

 

* * *

 

Fairy Tail braced themselves for a fight when they spotted the approaching Descartes. Nearly all involved wanted a piece of that horrid creature that had killed his own guildmates for the sake of power. Power that, in the end, wouldn’t even taint itself with his hands.   

It was then that they noticed the cloak of magick spreading over the battlefield and approaching them at an alarming velocity. Fairy Tail and its allies had zero time to react before the magick was upon them, engulfing them, smothering them, seeping down their throats and into their magic. 

Mages screamed as the magick foisted itself upon them and drained their energy like some life-sucking fiend. Descartes laughed crazily as he felt his magick’s utter joy at the Fairies’ pain. His manic eyes scanned the writhing mages for the one the primeval forces were converging to.

So focused was he on finding the mage that could call on the ancients, he didn’t notice the one who already did.

Gray stood aside the mad wizard, readying his spell. “Why _this_ spell?” he asked the ancient Ice which surrounded him. So long as this human possesses the souls of other humans, Ice answered, he is unkillable. Gray didn’t want to believe that, didn’t want to use this spell. Not after Natsu had made him promise—had _begged_ him after Galuna—that he wouldn’t use this spell again. 

But as Gray watched his guildmates and his friends from the other guilds fight against Descartes he knew. When not even Laxus’s magic, or the weak-yet-formidable magic of a newly revived Makarov, hardly _dented_ the might of Descartes’s magick, he knew. When Descartes blasted his guildmates and friends away into unmoving heaps, he resolved. So Gray summoned Ice and drew out the magick circles.

Descartes paused in his advanced when he felt the surge of powerful magick. Before his very eyes, vast sigils of magick, coloured a blinding, icy blue, surrounded him. To his growing horror, he recognized the circles. He tried to turn, but the magick held him fast. His own magick swirled around the soon-to-be icy prison and tried to discern a way out for Descartes, but the primordials beat it back viciously. 

When Gray couldn’t handle any more magick, he released his spell. “I won’t let you hurt my family again! This is the end of the line, you _monster_!” He snarled, unknowingly echoing the words of his late master. “ _ABSOLUTE FREEZE: ICED SHELL_!”

Every mage in the vicinity froze at the words. They watched, transfixed, as the Ice magick shot out and scored the shining magick circles. The Fairy Tail mages cried out in horror at the actions of one they held dear and many scrambled to their feet in an attempt to stop him. The temperature rose dramatically in response to a certain mage’s grief, but even a Dragon’s flames were no match for the sheer _power_ of a forbidden spell.

Natsu staggered to his feet and stumbled towards Gray, his _mate_. “No, Gray!” he roared along with his Dragon. “You _promised_!” He tripped and hit his knees. The fire mage got up again and trudged forwards, not caring about the torrent of magickal energy. He wanted to throttle his _stupid_ mate! How could Gray even think about _doing this_?! Doesn’t he care about them—about _him_ —at all?! The Dragonslayer paused and wailed in defiance. 

 _Of course_ Gray cared. That’s why he was doing this! Using a spell he _swore to Natsu he would never use again_. The Dragonslayer quickened his pace, needing to reach his mate and stop this spell, even if his mind told him it was too late to stop anything. 

Descartes was feeling much of the same. He struggled against the ice that was creeping up his body, but the damned stuff wouldn’t break. He lifted his gaze and fastened it onto the ice mage. The boy was halfway turned to ice, as per the nature of this spell. Much to his fury, Descartes didn’t see any fear or hesitation in those midnight eyes—only a steady resolve that would put Ullrych to shame. 

The wails and roars of the approaching Fire Dragonslayer broke Descartes’s concentration on the ice mage. “ _NO, GRAY! STOP IT! YOU PROMISED! **YOU PROMISED**_!” 

“I know,” Gray whispered, flinching at a particularly deafening crack of his icy body. “I know I did, Natsu, and I’m so sorry.” The tear that slipped down his cheek froze instantly. “But there’s no other way, you see? We don’t have enough strength left to defeat this man.”

Natsu snarled from behind the arm protecting his face from the Icy wind. “We’re Fairy Tail, Ice Princess! We don’t give up for anything!”

“Yeah,” Gray's voice cracked, “we are Fairy Tail. And that’s why I’m doing this, so that the world doesn’t lose our fighting spirit. So that the world will still have Makarov and Laxus and Erza and Mira and _you_ , Natsu.” Another fissured cracked Gray’s body and the ice mage shivered.

Natsu sank to his knees and bowed his head. “No, Gray,” he cried, not caring a whit about his salty tears, “you can’t leave.” He lifted his head, eyes shimmering with grief and anger. “It won’t be Fairy Tail without you Gray! You can’t leave! Don’t leave!” Natsu’s begging increased when he saw his mate’s body turn completely to ice. “ _You can’t leave! You can’t! Don’t leave me here, Gray! **Don’t leave me**_!” 

Descartes screamed one last time as Iced Shell completed, imprisoning him for eternity in ice.

“Don’t cry for me, Natsu. Live for me. I’m so sorry, but now I will keep you safe forever. I love you.” Gray’s whispered words sung among the whipping wind and Natsu roared his grief to the skies, his Dragon echoing his cry. 

Unbeknownst to the suffering mages, a magic circle, its glow masked by the brilliance of Iced Shell, finished its charging. As per the final wish of its dead mage, the Time Magick activated the sigil and released the spell. A white light shot out from the shining circle, enveloping the entire vicinity.

And time reset.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the whole 'Iced Shell and time reset' thing was my original idea for this story and somehow it transformed into this thing. Heheh...yay?  
> Since college semester is out, I'll try to get updates out a little quicker. However, there is a chance that I will be taking summer classes, so that may or may not be something to contend with.  
> Thank you all so much for your patience, I know it's frustrating to have an author with inconsistent updates.  
> If there is anything confusing or rushed or just awful and embarrassing, please let me know. 
> 
> And leave me some comments! Comments are love and I love to know what you all are thinking!  
> See you next chapter and thanks for reading! :)


	9. Icy Metamorphosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter IX!
> 
> So I meant to have this out yesterday. Whoops.  
> Also, isn't it great when you write notes about how you want a chapter to go, then end up changing things in the middle without realizing it until the entire chapter is finished? 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

 

White. Everything around him was totally, utterly white. He couldn’t make out anything but the suffocating whiteness. There was a cliché to be made here somewhere, but Gray was too exhausted to point it out. In any case, it was kind of obvious.

Gray sat up from his haphazard sprawl with a pained groan. A weak, chilly breeze ruffled his hair and he glanced to his right to see his magic spread-eagle upon the blank space. Gray quickly crawled over to it and gently scooped it up into his hands, cradling it close.

“What happened?” He asked, raising his head to look around. “I remember Descartes and him eating those souls,” he frowned to himself, “and then I...” midnight eyes widened, “I casted Iced Shell! I turned to ice!” He looked back at his magic. “But how am I here, then?”

W-we...t-time...Gray’s mouth tightened at the tremulous reply. He shifted to sit on his knees and re-enforced his grip on his magic as it nearly spilled from his fingers. He tried not to think about the pieces already strewn about the blank space and how it felt like a hole had been blasted through his magic container.

“Are you okay?” Gray asked quietly. He expected his magic to answer as it always did: that it was fine, for him to not worry. Yet, what Gray received made his blood run cold. 

N-no...hurts-s... 

A pulse of pain shot through him and the breath left the ice mage’s lungs. Gray’s pale form hunched over the mutilated remains of his magic. His muscles throbbed in time with the heartbeat that seemed too loud in his ears. A soft groan escaped his lips and he breathed heavily as the pain finally subsided. 

“W-what?” Gray panted, eyes locking on his magic. Tired, the icy signature murmured, so tired. Hurts. Painful. Gray didn’t know what to do with the bombardment of feelings from his magic and tried to center himself. 

Okay. Focus. Determine what happened and why his magic was so damaged. 

“Descartes was unstoppable.” Gray spoke to himself in an attempt to organize his thoughts and distract himself from the continuous flares of pain rebounding from his magic. “I called the ancients. I used Iced Shell. I broke my promise to Natsu.” Gray bit his lip and quickly halted that particular thought-road. “I turned to ice. And then something...happened. I ended up here.” He glanced around, squinting his eyes to peer as far as the eye could see in every direction. “My magic is damaged. My magic is _damaged_.” Gray adjusted his hold on his magic and grimaced in apology at its pitiful whimper.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Don’t be, came the weary response. Gray fell silent as he pondered his situation. Where was he? How was he supposed to leave this place? What even _was_ this place? Was it any _place_ at all? How was he supposed to fix his _magic_? ....Could his magic even be fixed with how injured it is?

A bitter chill—colder than even he could normally produce—brushed up against him. Gooseflesh snaked across his skin as he shivered himself out of his reverie. Gray’s eyes cleared and his head snapped around frantically, unconsciously pulling his magic closer to his chest to keep it warmer. (If this cold made _him_ freeze, he didn’t want to know what it would do to his poor magic in its current state.) 

“Who’s there?” Gray asked loudly.

I am, a winter’s breeze answered. Gray totally didn’t jump or anything ridiculous like that.

“Who’s ‘I’?”

I am I. I am me. I am Ice.

“Ice?” Gray echoed. Another shiver wracked his muscles.

Aye, Ice replied simply. Thou had called to me and I came. Here Ice seemed to frowned as it examined its current location. I am unable to discern what transpired after I froze the horrid human. Ice peered at Gray, its presence tilting in confusion like a dog’s head. Where art we presently?

“You’ve got me on that one,” Gray sighed wearily, “I have no clue where we are or even what happened.” 

I see. Ice swirled around in the air a bit before settling closer to Gray, who hunched over his magic slightly. Ice’s presence crouched down to Gray’s magic’s level. What dost thou name thyself, Small-Strong Magic? 

I-Ice Make... 

Ice bobbed in a semblance of a nod. And thou, Cold-Mage-Human? 

Gray startled a bit at the address, but answered accordingly. “Gray Fullbuster.” 

Ice swelled in delight. Well-met, Caster Gray Fullbuster. Long have we awaited to meet thee. Yet ‘twas I, Ice, who spake to thee first! The magick preened in smugness, little snow flurries fluttering about. 

Gray stared at the presence. He snorted and shook his head. “You’re a strange one, that’s for sure.” 

Ice regarded him in curiosity. Strange? This is good, yes? 

A chuckle escaped Gray before he could stop himself. “Yes, Ice, it’s good. Strange is good. You’d fit right in at Fairy Tail.” He glanced down at his amused magic with a grin. “We tend to take ‘strange’ as a personal standard there.”

Ice looked intrigued and made ready to question the Caster about this ‘Fairy Tail’ when a blast of pain had Gray doubling over with a cry and the little leaking ball of Ice Make to curl in on itself and shake with agony. 

Thine are befallen with injury! Ice moved closer and tried to soothe its new companions, but had to back off when the frost that followed it spread over and caused painful tremors to shoot through them. I cannot assist, Ice noted sadly.

“Fine,” Gray grunted, “we’re fine. Or rather,” his blue eyes darkened with worry for his magic. “ _I’m_ fine. I don’t know about you,” he added, shifting his hold and trying not to lose anymore of his bleeding magic than he already had.

What ails thee, Ice Make? Ice gathered around the smaller magic in concern.

E-expos-sure....ancients...t-too much...Ice Make wheezed. 

Gray tried not to scream. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. His magic couldn’t have taken the brunt of the primals’ power—Gray had to have taken _some_ of the load! Hadn’t he? 

“Did you take all the damage?” Gray asked frantically. He needed this answer and impatiently waited for his magic to gather itself to speak.

Y-yes... 

That was _not_ what Gray wanted to hear. “Why? _Why_?” he demanded, completely forgetting Ice’s existence as he stared at his magic. “Why didn’t you let me take my fair share of the damage? Why did you take it all yourself?” Gray’s voice trailed off in a devastated whisper.

His magic wrapped around his wrists in a pitiful squeeze. To pro-protect you, my m-mage. You are m-my world and I w-would nev-ver allow y-you t-to be hur-urt. 

“Damn it,” Gray snapped, voice cracking, “we’re a _team_! We look out for each other!” Gray’s eyes darted over his bleeding magic, the part in his hands and the pieces that had dripped all over the space. “And now—!” 

Ice had been quietly witnessing the conversation and knew that it had to speak. And now thou art dying, yes? Ice focused intently on Ice Make and the Small-Strong Magic tensed for a moment before slumping into a puddle of goo in Gray’s hands. 

Yes, Ice Make replied softly. 

Gray felt like the world had been ripped out from under him. “What?” he croaked. His magic was dying? How can that be? “Tell me how to save you!” he pleaded desperately with his magic. “I’ll do anything!”

N-noth-thing can b-be d-done, my m-mage. 

“No!” Gray protested and hugged his magic. “There must be something! I just need to think!” 

As the human mage wracked his brains for a feasible solution to save his magic, Ice was analyzing its own predicament. It couldn’t just stay here; wherever ‘here’ was, Ice could not exist here. Already Ice felt drained and tired by merely floating here. However, it felt a pull—a pull towards this human mage. Whatever had transpired outside this void had tied Ice to this mage. And something told the ancient force that this bond with the human was not going to be undone. 

So, perhaps this human mage was the key. Ice had always been the schemer, the planner, the tactician among its brethren; the one whose patience could withstand a thousand lifetimes yet whose rage could spell the end of existence in seconds. Over the centuries, Ice’s isolation had definitely given it a few quirks. With this strangeness came an ability to think outside of the glacier, if one wills. 

Perhaps this human mage would be able to support Ice outside of this void. As a host? Aye, a host. Yet that meant... 

Ice regarded the sorrowful magic as it attempted to console its grieving mage. Ice Make would not survive the return to the outside. Ice would be impressed if the Small-Strong Magic survived the rest of this encounter. If Ice were to make this mage, this Caster Gray Fullbuster, its host (its _mage_?), then Ice Make would need to be out of the equation. Even primordial magicks were unable to join up with a human who already possessed magic. Normally Ice would forthwith follow through with its plans, confident in their infallibility, but Ice hesitated.

During the casting of Iced Shell, Ice had come to respect the Small-Strong Magic. Ice had expected the smaller magic to simply capitulate and let the primal magick take control, as per usual. Ice Make, however, stood tall and proud the entire way, protecting its mage from the adverse affects of dealing with forbidden spells. Never once did Ice Make relinquish ground, even as it was being torn asunder by the viciousness of Iced Shell. 

Magic of such determination and strength was a rare find. Ice refused to let the world lose that. The ancient force glanced towards the human mage, now simply curled over his magic and weeping silently; Ice refused to let Caster Gray Fullbuster lose that. So Ice changed its plan. But would it even work? Ice wondered as it tweaked its scheme. Truth be told, Ice had no idea; but it was willing to try. 

Because Ice was now bound to Caster Gray Fullbuster. And Ice refused to let its host (its mage!) down. While Ice had not known Caster Gray Fullbuster for long, neither here nor at Galuna Island, it was content with the bond. Primal energies had never taken mages—and _Ice_ would be the _first_ , the ancient force thought proudly—so Ice was intrigued and excited. Most importantly, however, Ice Make was Caster Gray Fullbuster’s magic and Ice Make _adored_ its mage. Ice had felt Ice Make’s fondness and affection and respect and devotion towards the human Gray Fullbuster. The high esteem Ice Make put Caster Gray Fullbuster in cemented Ice’s decision. 

Frozen tears stained the cheeks of one Gray Fullbuster as he held his magic. His magic... _Ur’s_ magic...was dying. And Gray had no idea how to save it. The ache in his heart surpassing the agony of living with dying magic. A world without magic was worthless and lifeless to a mage; try as he might, he couldn’t think of a solution to stave that impending reality. The ice mage knew that there was no hope in fixing his magic, no matter how much he refused to admit to himself.

D-don’t cry, a soft brush on his cheek (and even that was strained, Gray thought with despair), pl-please n-no tears, m-my mage. 

“You’re _dying_ ,” Gray whispered softly, “how can I do anything _but_ cry? You’re my oldest friend and you’re dying.” 

But you are safe, was the strong return. That is all that matters to me. 

Gray begged to differ for himself, but didn’t get to express that as there was a cold breeze ruffling his hair. He turned and regarded Ice. “Yes?” he murmured. 

Ice shifted closer. Caster Gray Fullbuster, it began, I have studied thy situation and have intelligence to share. At the human mage’s silent prodding, Ice continued. What has been done outside this space had bonded us, me and thyself. For us to escape, we must answer that bond and accept it. In order to accomplish this, we must become magick and mage. 

Gray blinked in bemusement, greedily pouncing on the distraction of Ice’s words. “Uh,” he started eloquently, “what you’re saying is that you need to become my magic? Is that right?”

Aye, Ice replied, if thou willst have me.

The ice mage frowned. “I don’t see how this will work since I’ve already got magic.”

Ice knew this part had to be dealt with delicately. One who was so close with their magic as Caster Gray Fullbuster would not think lightly of destroying any part of his magic. I would become thy magick, Ice swirled nervously; I would replace thy brave Ice Make. 

A pause, then; anger flooded Gray. “Don’t you even think about it,” he growled, “my magic’s not going anywhere.”

And I do not wish it to, Ice insisted. I respect thee, Ice Make. I wish no ruin to thyself. Yet, we must return to outside; we must leave this place and we cannot until this bond is accepted.

Gray didn’t want to let go of his anger, but he was tired; tired and drained and worried and stressed and he just wanted to curl up with his magic and Natsu and sleep. “I already have magic.” he said again. 

Truth this, Ice agreed, but I may have pondered a solution. I could absorb Ice Make into myself and spare thy Small-Strong Magic from death. 

“But wouldn’t that kill my magic anyway?” Gray frowned. “I mean, your presence, Ice, kinda outclasses my magic’s.” He lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes. “And let’s say I agreed to this; would my magic even still be my magic or would it be lost completely inside you?” 

Ice faltered; here was the piece of the scheme that bred uncertainty. I know not this, Ice admitted finally. I wish the knowledge was privy to me, but it is hidden.

“So we’d be running on faith, huh?” Gray huffed. “No way—“ he broke off at a tug from his magic. The tiny signature was pulling itself into some semblance of togetherness in order to speak to Ice.

You say...no escape until bond accepted...Ice Make wheezed. You say....bond with....my mage. Ice Make was struggling so Gray murmured words of encouragement. You say....you absorb m-me...accept bond...escape. Yes?

Aye, Ice answered back. Thy words ring truth, Ice Make.

Ice make flopped in an exhausted nod. Then do it.

“What?” What? The twin exclaims from Gray and Ice brought back Ice Make’s focus.

Need...escape...my mage...this...only...w-way.

“But—“ I....die...but...chance....to stay with....you....inside....Ice....I will take this chance. Ice Make pooled its strength and looked Gray in the eye. _Please...Gray....let me stay....with you_. Tears prickled and fell, freezing midway, down Gray’s cheeks. 

“I—okay,” Gray sniffled, “okay.” He took a deep breath and composed himself. Turning to Ice’s patient presence he addressed the ancient force. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he warned, voice steady. “I give you my permission and my magic has given you its. Do with that what you will, but don’t make us regret it.” 

Ice swirled around the pair, snowflakes dancing. I shall endeavor to never do so, Caster Gray Fullbuster, Ice Make. Thine hath my eternal gratitude for thy trust. The ancient force bore down on the pair, but halted at Ice Make’s last question.

Will it hurt? The Small-Strong Magic sounded so weak and afraid that it made Ice sorrowful to answer, but answer it did.

 _Yes_.

 

* * *

 

 _A white light shot out from the shining circle, enveloping the entire vicinity._

_And time reset._  

Natsu stood, panting, and staring at the little girl who sprawled across the ground. She was laughing softly to herself as she painfully fixed herself into a sitting position.

“Well, you won, Natsu,” she wheezed, eyes bright. “You are so _awesome_!” She gushed. “Do you think you could teach me some of your moves?” Natsu wanted to snap, _‘No! You hurt my friends and my mate! I would never teach you anything!’_ but he couldn’t find it within himself to deny her hopeful look. 

“Maybe,” he muttered finally, fighting the urge to succumb to exhaustion. 

Natsu froze as soon as the word left his mouth. He was getting a serious sense of déjà vu and it was making him uneasy. Sharp eyes darted around, scanning the area. Something was very, very wrong. Gajeel was coming to, looking confused and disturbed simultaneously. Mellie was lying on her back and staring up at the sky with a shell-shocked expression on her face, betrayal and horror warring in her wide blue eyes; her previous smile and tired jubilation were unnervingly absent.

Natsu didn’t move as he assessed the situation. His déjà vu was smacking him in the face and it was seriously irritating. Where had he had such a horrid case of déjà vu? _Oh yeah_ , Natsu thought suddenly, _during the dragon attack, after the Grand Magic Games. There was that time skip backwards..._

Natsu’s train of thought derailed as everything came rushing back to him with all the force of an oncoming freight train. The soul-eating spell, that unstoppable power of Descartes, Iced Shell, _Gray_. 

Natsu’s head whipped around frantically until he located Gray. The ice mage was standing, but wobbling dangerously on his feet. The Dragonslayer’s heart nearly burst with relief and joy at the sight of human-and-not-ice Gray. So consuming were his emotions towards his mate’s survival that he almost missed the enormous cloud of silvery-blue mist hovering over him.

His Dragon crept closer to the mist and sniffed it, reeling back immediately in shock. Primal, it growled, primal yet smells of Ice Mate. Natsu’s heart skipped a beat. His Dragon shuffled uneasily as it studied the mist and their mate. The fire mage couldn’t wait any longer; he took a step towards his love only to freeze once more. 

The silver-blue mist converged on Gray and bombarded him. It streamed into his mouth and nose and sank down into the pores of his skin. Gray’s body went taut and the ice mage flung his head back and screamed.

Natsu surged across the battlefield and skidded to a halt a few metres from his mate. He longed to get closer, but his Dragon held him back. The fire mage struggled against the claws of his magic. 

“Damn it, let me go!” Natsu’s snarl mirrored that of his Dragon’s. “I have to get to Gray, _our mate_!” The more Natsu squirmed and wriggled, the tighter the Dragon held fast. “I won’t lose him again!” Natsu’s eyes were locked on the shaking form of his mate.

Gray’s veins were illuminated an icy blue underneath the pale skin. The illumination grew brighter and frost filigreed from his feet. The frost thickened into sheets of gleaming ice with each passing moment. The temperature plummeted so quickly that the entire air surrounding the ice mage froze. Natsu hissed as frost formed on his skin and he had to increase his overall temperature to drastic heights just to keep himself from succumbing to the icy air. The ice mage’s screams increased in volume and agony as his body began to ice over. The cracking of the iced body was as deafening as a calving glacier. 

Natsu would hear both sounds in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

As abruptly as Gray’s screams stared, they went silent. The ice mage swayed precariously. Mouth open in a soundless scream, eyes wide and sightless, an icy blue aura around him; skin so pale it was nearly translucent and the veins racing underneath glowed.

Natsu stepped one foot forward. “Gray...?” he asked hesitantly, hopefully.

Gray twitched in acknowledgement. But before either could make a move, an enraged voice screeched, the cry reverberating across the entire area.

“ _YOU?! YOU CAN SUMMON THE PRIMEVAL MAGICKS?! A WORTHLESS MAKER MAGE CAN DO WHAT I CANNOT?!_ ” Descartes staggered over to the Fairy Tail mages. His eyes were bloodshot and crazed, lit with a frightening, manic fury that sent chills down Natsu’s spine. The Dragonslayer tensed, ready to defend his mate and his friends from this madman. Descartes, however, only had eyes for Gray. He was quivering and spasms attacked his muscles. His magick was reeling from having its power ripped out from it by the unforgiving force of Time, and the affects were noticeable in Descartes’ haggard appearance. Black veins dominated the man’s skin, hair a stringy mess, those bloodshot eyes, blackened fingernails, bleeding nose, black-tinged lips, and sunken cheeks. The man was a mess to put it lightly. 

Gray regarded Descartes coolly. He didn’t seem concerned that the crazed mage was gearing up to attack him. Descartes grabbed his magic, not caring about its raggedness, and flung it at Gray with a spittle-ridden snarl. Gray tilted his head in contemplation before he held it hand up in front of him. The air molecules froze solid and Descartes’ uncoordinated strike slammed into the ice shield and careened towards the ground with a groan. Descartes tore out pieces of his hair in his frustration and threw a slew of attacks at a nonchalant Gray, the ice mage deflecting each with an insulting ease.

It wasn’t until Descartes aimed for the bystander mages that Gray got offensive. He bore down on Descartes, the strength of his ice unparalleled. Descartes leapt to the side with an undignified shriek as a tidal wave of iced spikes collided and shattered his pathetic shield. 

Gray didn’t give the man a moment of respite. Ice flung effortlessly from his hands and assailed the evil mage without mercy. Descartes gave up the pretense of a collected front and just tried to withstand the slew of ice. The man’s magick was still out of sorts from the time jump. 

It was a pitiable affair. Descartes was so _outclassed_ by Gray and the man realized it too late. He had no defense against the might of an ancient force like the Ice Gray commanded. Soon, his battered form lay crumpled upon the ground. It would have been easy for Ice to end this. Yet, Gray was still a Fairy Tail mage and Fairy Tail mages did not kill. So Ice stayed its hand. 

Descartes lifted his head when a frozen breeze ghosted his cheek. His eyes met the blank, unnaturally cold ones of the Fairy ice mage. Gray opened his mouth and spoke the first word since the clock turned back.

“Leave.” Descartes didn’t have to be told twice; he knew when he was beaten. The lanky man scrabbled to his feet and staggered into the surrounding woods, vanishing from sight. 

A beat, then; Gray swayed on his feet before collapsing with a soft groan. Ice formed underneath and froze the ground around his fallen frame solid. 

“Gray!” Natsu roared and rushed to the man. It had been like watching in slow motion as the ice mage collapsed. Natsu’s steps faltered at the subzero temperatures emanating from his mate and he increased his body temperature to that of a coal fired furnace just to withstand the cold and not be frozen. This heat didn’t really stop the frost from coating his skin, melting and freezing continuously in some strange, otherworldly dance. 

Natsu fell to his knees, the ice on which he perched melting quickly, and scooped up his unconscious mate, holding him close to his chest so that Gray’s head rested against his shoulder. With this proximity, Natsu was able to get a closer look at his mate. 

Gray’s raven hair (with that bluish tint Natsu loved) was coated with frost. The ends of his hair and the tips of his bangs were frozen solid into little icicles. They clinked together like chimes as Gray was shifted. His skin, already the pale of northern Isvan, was nigh translucent. The blue of Gray’s veins were easily discernable and there was a sheen of permafrost all over. Gray’s lips, normally a soft pink, were the blue of the hypothermic, as were his fingertips. What worried Natsu the most, however, were the patches of ice that were either fused into Gray’s skin....or _were_ Gray’s skin. 

The patches were littered about Gray’s body. One curled about his neck, opposite his jugular, and crept to the underside of his jaw and halfway to his clavicle. Another patch sliced his cheek. A patch ran down his forearm, curving from the underside of his elbow, running along the outside of his arm to the inside of his wrist. A huge patch covered his left side ribcage. A patch on his hip disappeared into his pants. The ice patches were like glass; Natsu could see Gray’s bones from within the ice, especially with the huge portion on his ribs and down his arm. 

With trembling fingers, he brushed up against one of the patches and astonishment flooded him. The ice was thick and strong and Natsu’s searing touch didn’t even cause condensation on it. Furthermore, the skin around the ice wasn’t frostbitten, something Gray had admitted could even happen to him with prolonged direct exposure. This only solidified the sickening thought that the ice patches weren’t fused into Gray’s skin; they _were_ Gray’s skin. 

The realization made Natsu want to retch. But this was Gray and Natsu loved every part of him, so he’ll make himself learn to love Gray’s new appearance. _Besides_ , Natsu thought privately, _they do look kinda cool, if just a little._ He brushed his fingers over a patch again and Gray shivered violently enough to make Natsu jerk his hand away as if burned. 

“Natsu!!” The fire mage’s head shot up at the shout. Makarov was perched on a piece of rubble, the other mages gathered around him. Natsu blinked at their considerable distance. Surely they would want to get closer to check on Gray? He opened his mouth to express this, but Makarov was employing his mindreading skills again. “We can’t get close, Natsu. Gray is too cold.” 

Too cold? Yeah, Gray was particularly more chilly than he used to be, but he wasn’t _too cold_. Natsu glanced down. Icy mist was coagulating, coating the two mages in thick, icy air. Natsu with his heat was hardly affected, but his sharp eyes noticed that, even with their sizable distance, his friends and guildmates were shivering from Gray’s temperature. Snowflakes and flurries danced in the gentle breeze. 

A soft cough interrupted Natsu’s musings. The mages all turned to the source to see a bedraggled Esmeralda and her guildmates. The former gypsy limped ahead and her family followed quietly, subdued and hollow.

“I...” she began, swallowed and soldiered on, “I— _we_ wish to extend our most sincerest apologies to you.” She wrung her hands and refused to meet any of their gazes. “I know we don’t have the right to ask for anything from you, but please accept our apologies. We should never have come here. I should have realized how corrupted my husband was. I am sorry.” Her green eyes, though dull, were sincere and her apology earnest. “We understand if you don’t forgive us.”

“Did you know?” Natsu barged in. “Did you know that Descartes would do this?”

Esmeralda wet her lips. “We knew he wanted to test his strength against you, that he held nothing personal against you. We knew that he wanted to harness the power to control the primordials.” Her hands trembled so she clasped them together. “We didn’t know how far gone he was. We didn’t realize how desperate he was. We should have.” 

“There are times,” Makarov’s eyes were hard, but there was also a gentle sympathy, “when we refuse to see the faults of our loved ones until it is too late to stop the consequences of our willful ignorance. When that happens, all we can do is pick up the pieces and be certain that never occurs again. That is, if we are able to,” he added. “In our blindness to the faults of those we hold dear, we often cause harm to others without intention.” 

Esmeralda gazed at the old guild master with an unreadable expression.

“However,” Makarov continued, “forgiveness is never denied to those who truly desire for it.” His eyes were knowing as they traveled from Esmeralda to each of her guildmates. The eyes of the mages of Fairy Tail were understanding and Esmeralda burned under their gazes. The plant mage dropped her eyes. She and her family didn’t deserve forgiveness for what they have done. Esmeralda remained silent for moments before finally moving.

Her hands reached up to her hair and undid her headband with deft fingers. Under the curious stares of guildmates and non-guildmates alike, she walked over to Lucy Heartfilia. “Lucy.” The blonde pointed to herself in confusion. Esmeralda held out the headband for Lucy to take. “It is a gypsy tradition to give a prized possession to one who is worthy of respect.” Lucy gaped at Esmeralda, taking the purple and gold sash with wide eyes. “It is a sign that the giver respects the receiver’s cunning and determination and heart.” Esmeralda stepped back.

“Titania.” Erza’s eyes locked onto Leopold as he held out a sword. “You won our duel. I believe the deal was victor got opponent’s best weapon. So. Here,” Erza grasped the blade; a scimitar of lunar silver. “I’ll leave you to figure out why it’s my best blade.” Leopold smirked. Erza nodded solemnly.

“I shall take great care of this gift, Leopold.”

“See that you do.” The requip mage tossed over his shoulder. 

Henrik and Mellie bounced over to Natsu and Gray, neither seeming to notice the frigid air. Henrik reached into his pocket and pulled out his golden pocket watch. “Here! I think the best Maker Mage will appreciate this!” Henrik winked at Natsu’s confused expression. “Gray will understand when he opens it. It’s from a lost dynasty, after all. One that’s known to any Maker Mage worth their salt.”

Mellie leapt at Natsu, eyes shining with excitement. “Natsu! NatsuNatsuNatsu! Here!” She slipped her bracelet onto Natsu’s wrist. “As promised! A Dragonslayer always keeps their promises!” Before Natsu could reply, the pair of mages bounded away back to their guildmates. The fire mage held the watch in one hand, his mate cradled in his other arm, and a bemused expression.

Back with Fairy Tail, Mira giggled softly to herself at Natsu’s face. She paused when a presence loomed behind her. A turn revealed the bone mage, Ullrych. “Hello, Miss Mirajane,” he murmured. He reached out and placed his necklace in her palm. “A mage with mighty power such as yourself should have reserves in store if she desires to defend her family.” Mira smiled sweetly at him and Ullrych dipped his head before departing.

Freed, unlike Mira, was not facing someone of calm dignity. Rather, he was trying to fend off the flirtatious advances of a beautiful woman who blatantly ignored his mate’s furious glares. “Freed,” Morgana purred. She sauntered up and ran her hand down his chest. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to get a drink with me? I can make it _worth your while_.” Her sultry smile made Freed squirm uncomfortably.

“I must decline, Morgana. I am, after all, already taken and have no desire to pursue _that_ type of relationship with anyone but my boyfriend.”

Morgana threw her head back and laughed in delight. “Oh Freed,” she chuckled, eyes twinkling, “that wasn’t what I meant, but if that’s what _you_ mean,” she trailed off with a grin. “ _I_ had planned on sharing knowledge, but I’m certainly amenable to _that_ kind of relationship, if you’d prefer.” 

Laxus came up behind Freed and wrapped his huge arms around the smaller man’s waist with a jealous growl. “Back off,” Laxus hissed, “he’s mine.”

Morgana held up her hands in surrender as she stepped away. “Such a shame, Freed,” she winked flirtatiously, “I think we could have learned a lot from each other.” Freed nearly groaned at the double entendre and Morgana laughed as she sashayed back to her guildmates.

A weight settled in Freed’s pocket, noticeable when Freed shifted in Laxus’s hold. Slipping his hand inside, he extracted the beautiful fan that wrote Morgana’s green runes. His eyes widened when he spotted the faintly shimmering runes littering the fan. His head shot up and he opened his mouth to protest, but Morgana was gone.

Esmeralda nodded at her guildmates and addressed Makarov. “We had better depart. We should find my husband before anything else happens.” 

Makarov nodded in return. “I wish you luck and safe travels. I hope we meet again under better circumstances.” 

Esmeralda’s eyes were wide when the aging wizard’s words registered. Her mouth opened to respond, to protest that they shouldn’t _want_ to meet her and her family again, that they should wish ill upon her and hers. Her mouth slowly shut when she saw the forgiveness in the eyes of the other mages, especially Fairy Tail.

 _How? How can you all be so forgiving? After everything?_ Esmeralda shook her head. She knew that she would never be as kind as these Fairies. “I wish you luck as well. And we are _sorry_.” She made to leave, but a thought suddenly occurred to her. Green eyes found the mages she was looking for. “Dragonslayer,” she called to Natsu, who perked up at the address, “please tell your ice wizard that my family and I do not blame him for anything.” Natsu tilted his head, perplexed about her words. 

“You can tell him yourself.” He stated, but Esmeralda smiled a melancholy smile. 

“Please promise you will tell him.” Natsu blinked and narrowed his eyes at her strange behavior, but promised all the same. 

The Gypsy’s Hoard vanished into the trees.

“Master,” Makarov started at the meek voice and smiled softly at the youngest Dragonslayer.

“Yes, Wendy?”

Wendy bit her lip. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

“I hope so, my dear, I hope so.” Makarov sighed.

“Why didn’t you punish them?” It was Minerva of Sabertooth who spoke up. “They deserved it after what they did!”

Makarov shook his head. “I didn’t punish them because they truly seemed remorseful for their actions. And,” he added solemnly, “I believe what they endured was punishment enough.” He gave himself a shake, wincing as he moved his aching body. “Now, I believe we have mages to treat and a city to repair, hm? Best get started.”

 

* * *

 

Six mages walked through the trees in silence.

“I’m sorry,” the quiet whisper broke the spell of silence. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so _sorry_!” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Esie,” Morgana hated to hear her best friend’s broken voice and stifled sobs. “You didn’t know; none of us did. He was always good at hiding things.”

“But I dragged all of you down with us! And we hurt all of those mages who had done nothing to us.”

“Esie,” Morgana trailed off, for once unsure of what to say.

“He knew what he was doing, Esie,” Ullrych’s deep timbre echoed in the rustling woods. The dark skinned man’s hand sought out Esmeralda’s and clasped it tight in his larger one. 

“Bastard didn’t care who got in his way. Don’t let yourself forget that.” Leopold grunted roughly.

“I should have never brought any of you here,” Esmeralda didn’t fight the bitterness, “you would have been safe from all of this if I had just kept to my own business.”

“But Esie,” Henrik pointed out softly, “if you had kept to your own business, then some of us wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I,” Esmeralda’s voice abandoned her. Her throat tightened at the idea of a world without these five wonderful people. It would be misery. She didn’t notice the tears streaming from her green eyes. 

“Please don’t cry, Auntie Esie!” Mellie pleaded, peeking around Ullrych with puppy eyes. “Don’t cry anymore!” The little girl was holding onto Ullrych and Morgana like her lift depended on it. Afraid to let her people go. Esmeralda felt the same. 

The former gypsy grasped Henrik’s hand, seeing she wasn’t the only one to do so. She was inwardly surprised that Leopold had allowed Henrik to hold his hand; but then again, it was possible he was fearful of losing his brother once more. 

“We’ll face what comes together,” Ullrych vowed in a low voice and Esmeralda couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst into choking sobs, clinging to the two family members in her grasp. 

The six mages walked in a line holding each other’s hands. They headed towards the place their souls were tugging them. 

They would face the future side by side, however dark the road may be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it may be just me, but Fairy Tail seems to forgive just about anyone who really wants forgiveness, so I thought it was plausible to forgive Esmeralda and co. for what they did when they apologized. 
> 
> I didn't really like how the ending section came out, but I didn't feel like changing it - sorry
> 
> Comments are love! Please drop me a comment! I love them all, whether they're rambling novels or simply a hello.  
> Thank you so so much for reading this story!!


	10. I Wait Eternity For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What ho? Is this Chapter X?
> 
> Uh, between life, classes, and this chapter being a jerk, sorry for the wait?  
> Not much left to go, I'm afraid.  
> I'm not abandoning this story until it's finished completely, so don't worry. 
> 
> Enjoy~

 

Natsu hated waiting.

He hated the way it sank into your consciousness and infected every aspect of your being until all you could think about was how long you have to wait.

He hated the way it wore down on you; how it devoured the hope you clung to as you tried to stay sane as you waited.

Natsu hated waiting; but he hated the sheer stillness of the person whose bed he held vigil beside more.

Gray was a quiet sleeper, unless his subconscious worked against him. He rarely snored, unlike Natsu’s draconian bellows. He was a closet cuddler and enjoyed snuggling up to Natsu at every opportune moment. As he slept, his brow would furrow and his fingers occasionally twitch and curl. Nightmares ensnared him viciously and Natsu had many a sleepless night trying to comfort his screaming, crying mate trapped within the darkness of his own mind. But when the nightmares gave Gray a reprieve, the ice mage looked almost angelic as he slept; and Natsu would wake himself up hours early just so he could admire his mate’s rare peace.

Gray had a habit of contorting himself to take the minimalist amount of room possible on their shared bed and Natsu oft wondered if that was a byproduct of his rather traumatic past. A way to keep himself safe from the shadows that haunted his footsteps. So Natsu let himself sprawl all over their shared bed as a means of reminding Gray that he wasn’t alone, that the darkness would have to go through Natsu if it wanted to get to Gray. The ice mage never said a word about it, but Natsu had a feeling he appreciated the gesture.

It wasn’t completely unusual for Gray to not make a sound whilst asleep, but this....this utter _stillness_ ; it wasn’t natural and Natsu hated it with every fiber of his being. More than once the fire mage had to run his eyes over Gray’s chest just to make sure his mate still breathed. It didn’t help that with each breath the ice coating the room and the unconscious mage thickened and spread.

Natsu tugged his thick, furred coat tighter around him. “How embarrassing,” he grumbled to himself, “me, wearing a winter’s coat. _Me_! The Fire Dragon Slayer!” He eyed the comatose mage. “I bet you’d have a right laugh at this, Ice Princess. This is your fault.” Natsu drooped as the expected retort never came. He reached out a hand, despising the fur-lined gloves protecting them, and ran his fingers through the blue-black hair. The thick frost crunched quietly as his fingers disturbed it.

Natsu trailed his touch gently down Gray’s temple to his blue lips. His fingers slid smoothly over the iced-over skin. Oh how Natsu desperately wanted to just hold Gray and melt the ice off. He wanted to kiss him and hear him and smell his scent and watch him move. _Anything_ but this silent stillness.

However Porlyusica forbade it. She had stated with a concerned brow and tightened lips that no one could touch Gray right now; if they did, the consequences would be severe. The ice mage was so cold that a single touch from a normal human would give them instant frostbite. Even Natsu was susceptible. Though, Porlyusica admitted that Natsu would survive longer to Gray’s iciness because of his affinity for fire. She had made him wear a coat and had Freed draw up runes to protect and preserve Natsu’s body heat—though he complained that he was strong enough to maintain it on his own—Porlyusica had bluntly stated that he couldn’t keep it up forever and who knew how long Gray was going to be like this? Best to preserve his magic for dire circumstances.

Natsu didn’t really want to dwell on what his imagination had conjured up for “dire circumstances”. He just wanted Gray to wake up so that Natsu could see those beautiful midnight eyes again.

“Please Gray,” Natsu slumped in his chair, gazing longingly at his comatose mate, “please wake up.”

 

* * *

 

Gray heard the whispers, heard the gentle coaxing. He felt the desperate longing and worry. But he couldn’t make himself awaken. He couldn’t make himself return to the world; not when there was a piece missing that Gray knew he couldn’t live without.

His eyes locked onto the emptiness; the gaping hole where the missing piece used to reside.

He reached for the familiar signature, the icy chill that made him smile, but only hollowness had the decency to respond.

Gray retracted his arm and curled into a tighter ball as he struggled to keep his composure. How was he supposed to return to the world, to Fairy Tail, to _Natsu_ , when he was so crippled? He was half a person, at best, without his magic. He couldn’t even stand to look at himself in the reflections of the once-occupied container; not when he had failed his magic so terribly. A strangled sob tore from his lips. He had _failed_ his magic. He had made a choice and he had let his magic _die_. Gray wasn’t sure if he could live with himself with the knowledge of his latest murder weighing down on his shoulders.

He had killed his master; he had nearly killed Lyon; he had killed Ultear; and now he had killed his own magic, Ur’s last gift to her most ungrateful pupil. Gray wanted to hide away in these dark depths so that he wouldn’t hurt anyone else, wouldn’t have to live with knowing that all he wrought was despair.

How was he supposed to face his friends and the man he loved with all his heart when he wasn’t even able to face himself?

A soft yearning caressed Gray. The ice mage knew it was from Natsu, but he didn’t respond. Natsu would be so ashamed of him and his cowardice and his ability to only be good for misfortune.

Gray ignored to longing of his heart and buried himself in the self-loathing that was always lurking to consume him. Maybe if he just stayed here, Natsu wouldn’t be added to his list of killings next.

 

* * *

 

Waiting was laughing at him, Natsu was sure.

It had been days, but Gray remained in his state of unconsciousness. The only sign of his continued life was the ice that froze on literally everything. Natsu had heard that it had even begun to enter the main guildhall. He knew that Gray was still alive, so why wasn’t he waking up?

Was there something wrong with his magic? Is that the reason Gray was still unresponsive?

Natsu pushed his Dragon to check on the ice mage’s magic. His Dragon sniffed and approached warily. A flare of cold and the crackling of ice prevented the red beast from getting any closer to Gray. The Dragon hissed and backtracked, pacing and growling as it studied the ice magic. It didn’t feel the comforting chill of the icy signature it loved so much; all the Dragon felt was the overbearing winter of an unfamiliar magick and the Dragon snarled.

Natsu frowned deeply at his magic’s reaction. “What’s up?” His Dragon slunk back to him with a soft, mournful noise. “What do you mean? Where’s Gray’s magic?” Natsu’s blood ran cold and his throat tightened. He clenched his fists on his knees and glared intently at his magic. “What do you mean his magic is gone?”

Exactly as it sounds, his Dragon huffed. Ice Mate’s magic is not here; another magic takes its place. It is overbearing and powerful and _old_.

Natsu...Natsu didn’t know what to do with this information. Gray’s magic was _gone_? Something else had taken its place?

What was happening to Gray?

 

* * *

 

The cold was unbearable. Gray had lived most of his life with some form of ice and snow, but _this_ cold was suffocating and colder than anything he had felt before. He lifted his hand and gazed blankly at his trembling fingers, the tips an alarming blue color. Shivers wracked his body and his extremities ached and burned with the beginnings of frostbite, but Gray couldn’t make himself care enough to do anything about it.

What was the point anyway? His magic was _dead_ and there was nothing left but this vindictive cold.

Snow flurries smacked him in the face and he spluttered. I am still here, something insisted, you are not alone!

Gray frowned and shifted lethargically. “Who’s there?”

Ice, the chill hovered around Gray, I am Ice; remember?

Ice? Gray tilted his head, his half-lidded eyes regarding the presence dully. Slowly, the memories trickled in. “Y-you...” Gray whispered, voice quavering, “this is your fault!” He roared and struggled to rise. Anger coursed through his being. “You—killed—I let you kill—!” Gray aborted his attempt to stand and sank back to his knees with a soft cry. “I—I _trusted_ you,” he choked brokenly, “I trusted you and you _lied to me_! You said you wouldn’t kill my magic...”

Ice floated closer and wrapped Gray in a gentle hug, ignoring how the human flinched from its touch. Forgive me, _forgive me_ , Ice begged, I didn’t know, _I didn’t know_. Ice drooped, I tried to save...

Gray looked away and glared at the ground he sat upon. Damn his softness! He heard how sorrowful Ice was and Gray knew that Ice wasn’t totally to blame; that lied with Gray. The ice mage wanted to remain angry, he wanted to _hate_ Ice for allowing Ice Make to perish, but it wasn’t Ice’s fault.

It was Gray’s fault that his magic was dead and Gray had to live with that. Though Ice was coagulating right next to him, Gray had never felt so alone. Natsu wasn’t here and now neither was his magic. Gray shut his eyes tightly, clutching his hair, and tried to stop the furious screams that demanded release.

Caster Gray Fullbuster? Ice began tentatively and several moments passed before Gray inclined his head in acknowledgement. Ice summoned its courage and placed something gingerly in Gray’s lap.

It was freezing. Gray opened his eyes and glanced down. His eyes widened and a gasp choked his throat.

 

* * *

 

Makarov sighed deeply and rubbed his temples with a wrinkled hand. What a _mess_. The aging guild master took a long swig from his mug and leaned back in his chair as he pondered the events.

So far these past few weeks, he had seen hide nor hair of the Gypsy’s Hoard and their monster of a guild master. The other guilds were pitching in and helping to repair the town; it was a slow-going process. Most of the wizards lingered in order to hear news of one particular mage.

Makarov sighed again. And that was another thing; one of his mages, one of his _children_ , was in a magickally-induced coma and showed no signs of waking. Not only that, but his body was having severe issues adjusting to the influx of magickal energy. More than once Porlyusica, Wendy, and Chelia had to run into the infirmary in order to stop Gray’s body from failing. It was becoming more difficult with each time.

Natsu hadn’t left his boyfriend’s side this entire time and wouldn’t sleep and barely ate. The boisterous fire mage was wasting away with worry and fear for Gray and there was absolutely nothing Makarov could do about it. He had tried to force Natsu to halt his vigil and sleep, but only got the fury of a Dragon for his troubles.

“Master Makarov?” The quiet, sullen voice roused the elderly wizard from his reverie. He regarded the mage in front of him; once full of vitality and fight and a bit of arrogance, the dreadful situation was heavily wearing down on one Lyon Vastia. Bags darkened the sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, tan skin became pale, and his eyes exposed the exhaustion of the bone-tried and the sorrow of the worried. “Is there any word on Gray?”

Makarov sighed wearily. How to answer this honestly? He was certainly not going to lie to the mage his brat considered a brother. “I’m afraid there has been no change, other than his continued incremental deterioration. He is still hanging on,” he added at the hint of despair in the young ice mage’s eyes. “If there’s one thing I know about Gray Fullbuster, it’s that he never gives up. He’s a fighter, he’ll keep fighting. So have faith in him.” Makarov’s words gentled toward the end and Lyon nodded silently.

“Yes, that he is,” the Lamia Scale mage agreed with a flicker of a smirk, “I won’t let him live it down if he loses now.” He met Makarov’s eyes and gave a short bow in gratitude. “Thank you; if there is any change...”

“I’ll make sure that you are informed.” The aging guild master assured the younger mage. A small, thankful smile ghosted across Lyon’s face before the mage took his leave, heading back out to help the other mages with putting the town back together.

Makarov rubbed his eyes tiredly, wincing at a sharp tug of his sore magic. What a mess.

 

* * *

 

Porlyusica opened the infirmary and shivered violently at the blast of icy wind. Now she was glad she had had the forethought to wear an extra winter cloak before coming to check on her frozen patient. Closing the door soundlessly, she headed for the occupied bed. The pink haired healer gazed down at the unconscious mage with a deep frown. More and more of the boy’s body was cracking under the pressure of sustaining a magick the human body was never meant to. As of right now, only the boy’s ability to summon the ancients was keeping him alive, albeit barely.

Sighing quietly, Porlyusica set to work. She reached into her medicinal pouch and pulled out a jar of healing salve and a brush. Dipping the instrument into the salve, she began to gently smear the salve onto the worst of the cracks littering Gray’s body. The salve trickled into the cracks and formed a sealant, closing the fissures enough for Gray’s skin to begin branching over to heal the cracks. Eventually, the bristles in her brush were coated in ice and the salve no longer took. Setting the brush down onto the bedside table, she quickly procured another and continued with brisk movements.

The healing mage worked until the entirety of the salve was applied to the ice mage. She stoppered the jar and returned it to her bag along with her frozen brushes. Only then did she allow her body to shake and shiver, breath misting before her. Rubbing her arms to bring back some heat, Porlyusica leaned over her patient and scrutinized him carefully. The imperceptible rise and fall of his chest told her he was still alive—she didn’t dare touch him for fear of horrid frostbite. She had to admit, his continued living was impressive. She knew from Makarov’s incessant bragging about his dumb brats that the mages of Fairy Tail possessed a ridiculous amount of strength, but this ice mage right here blew them all out of the water.

And he probably didn’t even realize it, the stupid child.

Porlyusica huffed irritably and leaned back in order to examine the boy’s magic. The cage of ice still enclosed Gray and it responded to her prodding with a protective hiss, curling even tighter around the mage.

Porlyusica raised a brow. Well. That certainly was different compared to the other times she had sought out his magic. Normally it responded with an outburst of jagged icicles that Natsu had to melt.

Speaking of, the healing mage glanced up and regarded her fellow pink haired wizard. Natsu was still perched on the armchair by Gray’s bedside, the chair itself pushed as close as he could physically get without climbing onto the bed. Wisps of steam rose from his hot body, meshing with the frigid air of the room. The fire mage had curled up into a small ball to preserve his heat, but as the temperature dropped, his thick clothing was slowly becoming ineffective and so he shivered in his sleep. Yet he still refused to leave the room.

“Stupid boy,” Porlyusica muttered crossly, “you’re going to freeze to death if you stay here.” A shake, however, brought her back to her current task. She delved into her pouch once more and pulled out a vial of light pink fluid. Reaching out, she grasped Gray’s mouth and eased it open, disregarding the quiet snapping of his skin’s ice coat. Snaking her arm underneath his head to raise it slightly, Porlyusica trickled the potion down his throat as fast as she could before it froze. Stowing the vial, the pink haired woman stepped back.

Well, that was the best she could do for now. Wendy, with her skill at magical healing, would have been of great help to Gray, but Porlyusica was not going to allow the small Dragonslayer into this room anymore—not where she could be killed in mere minutes by Gray’s chilling cold. She already itched to take Natsu by the ear and toss him out of the infirmary, but she knew the effort would be futile as the stubborn idiot would just sneak back in anyway. And in any case, she supposed, Natsu had a better chance of surviving in here better than any mage present, even Lyon Vastia.

Ice and ice don’t tend to mix, after all; the damn proud magic. Gray and Lyon’s magic only worked together because they had learned together. Any other ice mage would never mesh with either of the pair. Yes, this foreign ice magick infecting Gray no doubt would react poorly to Lyon’s magic.

Grumbling to herself about fickle magic and stupid, stubborn mages, Porlyusica walked over to the supply closet and pulled out all the blankets she could find. In a rare gesture of common decency, the healing mage didn’t throw the blankets at the sleeping fire mage. Instead she actually wrapped them tightly around him and cocooned the Dragonslayer within the fabrics. Natsu let out a soft sigh and snuggled deeper into the blankets until only a tuft of pink hair was visible.

With one last look at the comatose ice mage and his devoted sentinel, Porlyusica exited the infirmary.

 

* * *

 

Trembling fingers tentatively brushed the sculpted faces of his teacher, his parents, Ultear, his mate, his friends, his guildmates....

Everyone was here; everyone he cared about and treasured with all his being was represented with astonishing detail in the sculpture resting in his lap.

Gray swallowed. “H-how...why...”

Ice shuffled in embarrassment. I don’t know, it whispered, I don’t know. I just...it trailed off before continuing almost inaudibly, I had to do it. Ice floated closer. You were hurting and you’ve forgotten.

“Forgot what?” Gray rasped. Ice tilted as it studied him silently. You’ve forgotten your family, it said simply. You’ve forgotten that you have people who care about you and would be very sad if you left them.

Gray clutched the sculpture to his chest. “My-my magic...” his eyes dropped to the ice figurines, “my magic used to do this for me.” His voice was low and quiet as it spoke to Ice. “It did this for me just as you did: to make me remember that I’m not alone anymore, that I have people who care about me and would miss me when I’m gone. Who _love_ me.” Gray slowly looked up and pinned Ice with a sharp look. “I’ve never told _anyone_ about this, not even Natsu. So how did you know about this?”

Ice shrugged, just as bewildered as its mage was. I don’t know, it sighed, I don’t know why I made that creation. I just...I needed to. Ice paused; it just felt like the right thing to do when you’re hurting like this. Ice twisted and shifted; it was fun to make, it admitted decisively. I enjoyed creating.

Gray stifled a snort at the magick. A small, fond smile stole across his face as his eyes lovingly traced each and every figure represented. “I...” he began, but stopped. “Thank you,” he said instead.

 

* * *

 

Natsu was glaring moodily at the table where he was seated. Makarov had kicked him out of the infirmary and forced Natsu to sleep in his bed (it was so awful without Gray and it took forever for Natsu to fall asleep) and eat a hot meal (it tasted like ash).

Dark eyes observed the crowded hall; mages from all the allied guilds lounged on every available surface, including each other. Exhaustion was the name of the game and every mage present felt it down to the marrow in their bones. By coincidence or good fortune, the guildhall survived with only one sizable dent this time. Laki Olietta had been energetic enough to both patch up the hall and extend it to create temporary quarters for the visiting mages who managed to not crash where they stopped.

The fire mage returned his attention to his teammates sitting beside and across from him. Lucy had her head resting on her arms and was shamelessly trying to doze. Happy and Carla were leaning against each other with Wendy providing soft conversation. Erza, true to form, was enjoying a slice of strawberry cake procured from somewhere. His eyes trailed involuntarily up to the infirmary where their final teammate lay. The door was no longer visible through the thick ice sheet and roots of icicles spiraled out from their origin point. They crossed the ceiling, dominated the floor, and conquered most of the closest pillars. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t a byproduct of Gray’s comatose state.

Natsu sighed quietly to himself and withdrew his gaze from the iced entrance. He wanted to be with Gray, but with Makarov and Porlyusica double-teaming him, there was no chance he would be allowed back in anytime soon. As Natsu plotted the best way to sneak back into the infirmary, the murmurs of all the present mages gradually died down.

“Master Makarov,” Rufus of Sabretooth broke the sudden silence, “how is Gray Fullbuster?”

Makarov, sitting in his chair by the bar, raised a brow when people turned expectant looks toward him. “As well as he can be. So far, we’ve not noticed any serious change.” The other mages appeared to droop in disappointment.

“Was it that magick?” Yukino spoke up quietly. “That magick the horrible man was using? Did that magic hurt Gray like this?”

Makarov frowned in consideration. How to explain this? “...No, it wasn’t Descartes’ magick that put Gray in this state. At least, not completely.” He took a deep breath, recalling the information from his Archive. “Descartes used a rare type of magick: Soul Magick. It is very ancient and very powerful. Many people throughout history have studied and gained the knowledge of how to manipulate this magick, to the point where people began to abuse it devastatingly.” He paused and noted how he had everyone’s rapt attention, even Natsu. He continued, “Eventually, people fought against sustaining the secrets of that magick. Their argument was that Soul Magick was wretched and twisted the natural course of life and the stability of magic itself. It takes a person’s soul and magical energy and distorts it for the caster’s own use. So the mightiest of mages took it upon themselves to eradicate the world of any and all references to Soul Magick. Over the centuries, with the systematic destruction of all knowledge of Soul Magick, the very concept transitioned into a myth, a cautionary tale to warn against meddling in affairs that humans have no business.”

“But Master,” Erza interrupted, “if all the evidence of this magick was destroyed, how did Descartes get his hands on it?”

“And what does this have to do with Gray?” Natsu growled lowly. The nearby mages shifted slightly away from his churning anger.

Makarov sighed. “Evidently, some form of the magick’s secrets persisted and survived the purging by countless mages before. I don’t know how Descartes got his hands on anything pertaining to Soul Magick; that would be a question to ask his guild members. By the state of him, he must have been using it for quite some time.”

“Why do you say that?” Lucy asked in confusion, finally having raised her head from the table. “How do you know how long he’s had it?”

“Soul Magick corrupts its users and distorts them into unrecognizable creatures. They become shadows of their former selves as their minds are twisted and altered until everything they do feeds the magick’s own machinations and lust for power. Oftentimes, the user isn’t even aware that the actions they commit are not of their own creation, but are the desires of the Soul Magick itself.” The guild master closed his eyes. “The corruption is slow and subtle; as we saw, not even those closest to Descartes were aware of how far he was gone.”

“And as for Gray,” Makarov opened his eyes and bore them into Natsu’s. “Gray’s use of Iced Shell made him the vessel for the primal force of Ice. If everything went to Gray’s plan, Descartes would be sealed in eternal ice and we would have lost one of ours. However, with the addition of Time Magick into the equation, everything has gone kaput. Gray is now suffering the affects of interacting with a magick humans weren’t supposed to truly utilize. There’s no telling of how he will come out of this.” _If he even does_ , he added to himself.

_And if Gray is bound to this magick...what will be the lasting effects?_

“Do you know when he’ll wake up?” Natsu demanded.

Makarov shook his head. “No, Natsu, I don’t know. I’ve never encountered a case like this before. No one has.”

“Gray will wake up soon.” A tiny voice spoke quietly yet steadily. “He just needs time, and to come to terms with everything. He’ll return to us,” Wendy smiled at the others, “you’ll see.”

Natsu stared hard at the little Dragonslayer. “He’ll wake up?” he asked hoarsely and she nodded. “When?” His eyes betrayed the frayed desperation of a worried Dragon mate.

Wendy exchanged a look with Chelia beside her. “When he’s ready.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Gray was reluctant to even bring this up, “so, I guess my magic...” His eyes found the little statuette of his family and stayed there as he trailed off.

Ice was silent as it pondered Gray’s unfinished sentence. Why _had_ it made that sculpture? It certainly had no whims to create something like that beforehand. Sure, Ice was quirky and odd in comparison to its brethren, but it was also fickle and temperamental. Sentiment wasn’t really in its repertoire, so why...?

Unless...unless. Could that be why? It definitely explained a few things now that Ice thought about it. How amusing it would be if _that_ were the case. Yet, all things considered, Ice didn’t think it would really be a bad thing.

Ice Make had been fascinating and Ice was saddened to not have it here any longer.

“You know,” Gray cut into Ice’s musings, “I may not know you well at all, but you’re acting...unusual. More unusual than usual.”

And wasn’t that the kicker? Ice was pretty sure that its previous thoughts were correct. Now how to tell Caster Gray Fullbuster? Ice hoped that he wouldn’t want to dissect it afterwards. That didn’t really sound like a pleasant experience.

“You’re acting like, well,” Gray scrutinized Ice, “like my magic.” Midnight eyes flickered from the statuette to the presence. “You don’t speak like you used to. Less...formal. And you’ve apparently become insistent to remind me that I’ve got good things in my life,” he gestured to the statue, “so what’s going on?”

Ice decided to come clean and pray that its new mage wasn’t feeling up to splitting it in twain. I think, it started hesitantly before forging ahead quickly, I think that what was left of Ice Make is still here. Still alive, just...in me.

Gray blinked and tilted his head. “What?” Disbelief warred with hope. “My magic’s still alive?” His brain processed the other words slowly. “In...you?”

Aye, Ice confirmed. I believe that Ice Make’s last deed was to leave pieces of itself here with me. For you, it concluded softly.

The ice mage stared at the presence dumbly. In his lap, the sculpture felt colder and the ice forming it seemed to pulse gently. His magic was still alive in Ice? Gray turned his thoughts inward and replayed all his previous encounters between himself, Ice, and his magic. Ur’s magic had had a certain sense of humor, one that left Gray often baffled. This whole situation just oozed his magic’s irony. Giving rethought to Ice’s recent actions, Gray realized that all of Ice’s gestures and speech patterns reminded him of his late magic. If what Ice said was true, then his magic was still here, just fused with Ice and influencing its mannerisms and personality.

Gray had to huff a laugh. His magic was tenacious and absurd, that’s for sure. Rubbing off on an ancient primal force to the point that it unknowingly adopted its idiosyncrasies....that...that was _priceless_.

“Heh,” a smile stretched across his face, “so you’ve got bits of my magic floating around in that vaporous mass you call you, huh?”

Ice peered curiously into Gray’s face. You’re not...angry?

“I...” Gray frowned, “I...suppose not. I mean, I’m upset and furious that we’ve been put in this situation, but I’m not mad at you. You didn’t guarantee my magic’s survival,” his voice cracked slightly, “but you did your best and I can’t find fault in that.” Gray’s eyes filled with soft gratitude. “I didn’t think I’d have anything left of my magic. I thought it was gone forever. But now, now there’s little pieces of my master’s magic in you and I, I think I can be happy with that.”

Ice had to admit, it was touched at Gray’s words. It was also proud, because Ice was a prideful bastard and had no shame in that. Ice was proud that _its_ mage was so strong and kind.

We can’t stay here, Ice murmured gently. Ice was well aware of Gray’s reluctance to awaken. He didn’t want to face his failure, but they can’t just bury their heads in the sand, as it were. People needed Gray Fullbuster out there.

Gray flinched and looked down. He knew they couldn’t remain, but he didn’t think he could look his family in the eye after what he had done. “Can’t we?” he whispered. “I can’t—I don’t think I can handle what they’ll think of me.”

Do you really think so little of your family? Ice demanded harshly. Do you really believe that they’ll cast you aside for something you had no control over? You were always going to cast Iced Shell, Ice bowled over Gray before the human mage could interrupt. You couldn’t have cast anything else. Your family was in danger and no other spell would have saved them.

“But I promised Natsu,” Gray’s face was awash with shame, “I promised and I broke that promise. What’s more, I killed my own magic, _Ur’s_ magic.”

You can’t keep every promise, Ice gave into its urges and hugged its human, you can try, but it’s nigh impossible. Although, if you think about it, Ice added mischievously, you technically didn’t break any promises. We went back in time, didn’t we?

Gray froze then laughed out loud. Ice preened at making its human cheer up. Gray laughed so hard he was gasping for air. _This is so fucked up_ , he determined. _But Ice is right; I technically didn’t break any promise. Maybe Natsu won’t kill me?_

Gray finally reigned in his chuckles. If his laughter was a bit hysterical, who was to make fun of him? It’s been a stressful few hours.

You know we have to go back; right, Gray?

The ice mage in question regarded the primordial presence in front of him carefully. This presence, this _Ice_ , held the last remains of Ur’s magic fused inside it. This Ice had tried its damnedest to save his magic, and even let the little pieces left stay within it.

We have to return, Ice hugged its Gray tighter. We’ll make things right. Together?

Gray was silent for a long moment, yet his choice was already made. In honor of his magic, which had given up everything for him, Gray would return. The ice mage nodded once decisively.

“Together.”

 

* * *

 

Natsu wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Gray had been in a coma for _three months_. The majority of the other guild mages had returned to their own cities and Magnolia was nearly completely rebuilt.

The fire mage had sat loyally by his mate’s side for the last few months, but even he was beginning to wonder if Gray was going to wake up—

 _No!_ Natsu slapped his cheeks to stop that thought. _Gray **is** going to wake up! _ Natsu told himself. _And when he does, I’m going to give that dumb Princess a piece of my mind!_ After Natsu kissed the ice freak stupid, that was.

He wasn’t going to give up hope. Not on Gray, who was the most hopeful person Natsu knew.

Natsu turned back to the ice mage only to stop dead. As if a dream come true, he looked back into weary midnight eyes.

Gray was awake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Gray, nap time's been over for a long time!  
> Hope you liked it!  
> Anything to say? Drop me a comment, for they are love!  
> Speaking of which, thank you to everyone who has commented on this story - it really means a lot to me that you take the time to tell me what you thought.
> 
> See you all next chapter!


	11. States of Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I come bearing Chapter XI!
> 
> Sorry for the wait, but life gets in the way. You know how it goes :/  
> I'm not fond of this chapter. I couldn't get it worded the way I wanted x(  
> Oh well. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I hope you enjoy it anyway~

 

Gray wanted to scream in frustration as his magic shot around the training grounds, coating everything in thick layers of jagged icicles. Instead of the precise molding he was known for, his magic simply shattered the sculpture he formed it in and went everywhere.

It had been over a week since he woke up from his comatose state and so far, he had an embarrassing lack of control over his magic. The others had tried to console him, saying that he couldn’t possibly master his new magic quickly and to not be discouraged, but he couldn’t help it. He used to be able to make anything he imagined in seconds with his master’s magic; now he couldn’t even create the very basics. All his creations were either too brittle and shattered immediately or held no substance whatsoever.

It was pathetic.

What’s more, no one can really get close enough to him to help him out as he _still_ can’t manipulate his temperature properly. Only Natsu’s hottest flames were able to keep the flame brain himself from freezing solid. If his magic didn’t intentionally plummet the temperature further just to make Natsu miserable, that was.

And now wasn’t _that_ a problem? It seems his new magic didn’t like to share. Go figure. Not that Gray would expect anything less from a primordial force that can easily have whatever it wanted.

 _Except it_ _was a very big problem_. Natsu and Gray were barely able to stay in the same location together for too long before their magic started fighting. The two mages would then get wretched headaches and wicked burns from the hot and cold magics. The whole situation was grating on his and Natsu’s nerves. They needed to be near each other to reassure themselves that they were alive and here, but their magic wouldn’t let them.

It fucking _sucked_. All Gray wanted to do most days was curl up with Natsu and forget about all this fucked up nonsense and he can’t even do that now.

So instead of taking his frustrations out on his poor guildmates, he had decided to work with re-mastering his magic. Apart from the fact that his magic was now _magick_ and Gray had no freaking idea how to actually work with the damn thing, everything was going _just swell_.

Which was exactly why the training grounds assigned to him looked like the Ice Age had arrived early and with a _vengeance_.

Gray closed his eyes, running iced fingers through his frosted hair. Taking a deep breath, he tugged on his magick and brought it to his hands. “Ice Make: Shield!” The icy shield held for a couple seconds before shattering, sending ice shards flying about the training grounds. Some skidded across the slick, frozen turf, some stabbed into the hardened trees, and some bounced off Freed’s barrier.

“Damn it,” Gray seethed and glared at his magick, who glared right back. “Why isn’t this working? Aren’t we supposed to be a team?” His magick huffed and turned away from him. Gray scowled at the gesture. “What’s wrong with you?”

Wrong with me? His magick sassed back. What’s wrong with _you_? _You’re_ the one making things difficult.

“ _I’m_ making things difficult?” Gray retorted. “You won’t let me make my creations! I’m an Ice Make Mage! My magic creates things!”

Don’t stick me in a box, Ice snapped. I’m not like your other magic.

“I _know_ —“ Gray started.

Do you? Ice countered.

As Gray opened his mouth to protest, a familiar voice drawled. “You know, Gray, Maker Magic works best when you actually _make_ something.” Gray and Ice glanced over to see Lyon standing casually with arms crossed and a brow raised. A thicker coat than his norm clothed his torso and gloves adorned his hands.

Gray glared and turned away. “Idiot, I’m aware of that.”

“Then why aren’t you doing that?” Lyon mocked. “Have you really forgotten how to use your own magic?”

“Of course not!” Gray growled. “But _this_ magick is different than Ur’s magic!”

“Exactly.” Lyon snorted. “So why are you trying to use it like Ur’s magic?” At Gray’s look, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Gray, sometimes you can be so _slow_.” Lyon uncrossed his arms and brought his hands together. A miniature snow tiger roared at the younger ice mage. “You’re used to molding Ur’s magic. It was malleable to your thoughts and whims because it was _yours_.” Lyon dismantled the snow tiger and crossed his arms again. “The magic you possess now is an entirely different breed of magic. It won’t bend to your will like your previous magic. So why are you trying to use it like your old magic? Try another method to mold your creations.”

Lyon studied Gray intently—inwardly shuddering at the translucent ice-skin and the fact that he could see some of his little brother’s _bones_ —and tried to ignore the interactions of his magic and Gray’s. His ice was hissing like an agitated kitten at Gray’s while his brother’s magick was just staring at his magic in the disdainful bemusement only an older feline could pull off. Lyon knew his magic was lashing out because it missed Gray’s old magic and blamed _this_ magick for its demise. It was a little unsettling how intimidated his magic was when facing Gray’s, though.

Gray was silent as he pondered his older brother’s words. He would never admit it, but sometimes Lyon could actually be smart. He was right; Ice was nothing like his master’s magic. It was obstinate and unyielding and Gray was never going to be able to command it like his old magic. Gray had been so out of sorts after he woke up, he had forgotten that and tried to use his magic like he used to in order to gain at lease _some_ semblance of normalcy since his awakening.

He could really be an idiot at times, he mused. Ice was phenomenally different than his previous magic so _of course_ it would take other methods to get it to work with him. Gray was irritated with himself for not realizing that earlier. But he was even more irritated that it took _Lyon_ , of all people, to point it out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his brother’s retreating form. Gray felt a swell of gratitude for Lyon and reminded himself to thank his brother for putting Gray’s head on straight. The Fairy Tail mage resumed his practicing in the deserted training grounds.

Ice was eyeing him warily and Gray suppressed a wince. “Sorry,” he murmured to it, “everything’s kinda been overwhelming this past week.” Ice bunched itself up and floated closer slightly. Don’t beat yourself up about it, it muttered. Just don’t forget that I’m nothing like Ice Make, regardless of how much Ice Make has influenced me. I am in a whole other league compared to Ice Make.

“So,” Gray floundered a bit in uncertainty as he addressed his magick. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Ice whirled over to Gray. Well for starters, Ice poked its amusement at its mage, you don’t have to tell the world about your spells. I already know what you want to create as soon as you summon my essence into your creation.

Gray’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t refute Ice’s words. You need to trust me, Ice continued quietly, you need to trust me to let me forge the creations you imagine. “I do trust you,” Gray spoke up, confused. Do you? Ice wondered pointedly.

The ice mage frowned and thought about that last question. He did trust Ice, it was just...just that Gray was so used to his magic following his lead and now that his magic wasn’t around anymore...Gray supposed that he _was_ shaky in his trust. He had relied heavily on Ur’s magic to watch his back, so to speak, and now that it was dead Gray was having trouble trusting Ice to do the same. _I guess Ice’s concerns were warranted_ , Gray sighed mentally.

“I...I do,” Gray began, “but—“

It’s difficult to start to rely on another to watch your back when your longtime partner dies? Ice finished.

“Something like that,” Gray sighed aloud this time, inwardly flinching at the reminder. Ice contemplated that before shrugging. So we’ll have to work on trust, it blew a chilly breeze at Gray. Trust doesn’t breed overnight so don’t expect any creations to be spectacular.

Gray nodded silently. “And speaking of trust,” he narrowed his eyes, “want to tell me what the hell’s your deal with Natsu?”

Ice jerked away and bunched up. Not particularly, it sniffed.

Gray glowered at his magick. “Seriously? What’s your deal? Natsu is my boyfriend! I worked too damn hard to get that stupid flame brain to acknowledge that we feel the same about each other and I’m not about to give him up just because you and his Dragon don’t get along.”

I don’t like it, Ice muttered petulantly. It wants to take you away from me and I don’t like sharing.

Gray just...stared. He couldn’t believe it. Here was this primordial, ancient, all-powerful force of magick...and it was _jealous_ because something else wanted to occupy Gray’s time.

Plus it’s ugly, Ice added with a superior huff. Blue is a much nicer color than _red_. Red is garish and loud and not subtle or lovely _at all_.

Gray did not laugh. He _didn’t_ , thank you; regardless of how much he may or may not have choked in order to accomplish that.

“L-look,” Gray swallowed his chuckles, “look, you two are going to have to make nice. Because it’s actually hurting Natsu and I to be separated for too long.”

Hurting? Ice dashed over to examine every inch of its mage. Snowflakes coated the burns it spotted.

Gray wasn’t sure how to explain this. How was he supposed to explain that being forcefully separated from Natsu was making Gray want to cause as much destruction as possible to remove all obstructions keeping him from his mate? That the magics’ dislike of each other was hurting their mages? That they were both suffering from damn _withdrawals_ that physically _hurt_? Gray may not be an actual Dragonslayer, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the little, ah, _side affects_ , of being mated and bound to one. Which included the dire need to be at least somewhat close by each other.

Which, coincidentally, Gray was totally fine with. _Except_ on the unusual case of his new magick wanting nothing to do with Natsu and his Dragon. Now Gray was not so fine with that little rule.

Because being away from Natsu fucking _sucked_. Hence, Gray’s current attempt at an intervention.

“Yeah, hurting, so can you at least give Natsu a chance?” Gray pleaded (which was _not_ begging). Ice scowled and wanted to refused again, but both chilly persons were blasted with a furnace’s greeting.

 

* * *

 

Natsu was finally going to give Gray’s magick a piece of his mind. How dare that icy prick keep him from his mate?

The fire mage stomped up to the training grounds in a whirlwind of seething fury. His body temperature spiked to sweltering levels _just_ shy of actually burning the fireproof HAZMAT-equivalent clothing Virgo had so thoughtfully procured from the Celestial World. (Seriously, how did that spirit just happen upon exactly what they needed every time? It was creepy, almost as creepy as her continued requests of punishment from her mistress.) (And the clothes were pretty fashionable! How!)

Natsu marched right up to his mate, insides fluttering with contentment at Gray’s small smile of greeting, and purposefully ignored the sizing contest his Dragon and Gray’s Ice were having. The ice sheets around Natsu stood no chance and melted immediately in the face of Natsu’s temperatures. The fire Dragonslayer imagined he could hear their screams as their plans to keep Gray to themselves were foiled.

“Hey, flame brain,” Gray raised a brow, “what are you doing here?” Ice took its attention off of the red Dragon to glare at Natsu and shuffle closer to Gray. Natsu fought back a possessive snarl.

“I’m here ‘cause I’ve had it!” Natsu growled. “You’re _my_ mate and I’m tired of not being able to spend any time with you! You were in a coma for months and I thought you weren’t going to wake up, popsicle breath!” Natsu stalked nearer and his Dragon hissed at the encroaching cold. “Your damn magick won’t let anyone else near you, especially _me_!”

Natsu was fuming because after Gray woke up, Natsu hadn’t really been allowed to have Gray to himself. Whether it was Porlyusica and Gramps or Gray’s own magick, Natsu was prevented from taking Gray and hoarding him away.

Natsu had been so thankful that Gray had awakened, he hadn’t considered the consequences of what Gray had done. That included ignoring the strange magick that ran through Gray’s core.

 

* * *

 

_Natsu turned back to the ice mage only to stop dead. As if a dream come true, he looked back into weary midnight eyes._

_Gray was awake._

_There was a moment, a breath; then,_

_“ **Gray** ,” Natsu choked and lunged at the sleep-addled ice mage. He wrapped burning arms tightly around his mate and buried his nose in the crook of a pale neck. He felt the thrum of foreign magick through Gray’s pulse, but disregarded it because his mate was _awake _._

 _“Natsu,” Gray whispered, voice hoarse from disuse. Natsu sprang back at the sound and groped for the water bottle on the nightstand. Quickly melting the ice block, Natsu eased the water down Gray’s throat slowly, reveling in the knowledge that Gray was_ speaking _and_ drinking _._

 _The ice mage bemoaned the loss of the water when Natsu pulled his hand back. He didn’t have time to voice his complaints, however, because as soon as Natsu set the water down he turned back and leaned over Gray, eyes smoldering. Furnace lips captured frozen ones in a rough embrace. Gray closed his eyes and sighed into the kiss, steam erupting from the two extremes. Natsu kissed and nibbled and kissed and bit and_ kissed _his mate until he had stolen the ice mage’s breaths and dominated his thoughts. For want of air, Natsu pulled back. His eyes were dark with lust as he gazed at his breathless mate._

_“Took you long enough, Princess,” Natsu panted. “I thought you’d sleep forever, you lazy fuck.” The thinly-veiled panic and worry made his joke fall flat. But it was the anger overtaking the panic and worry that made Gray fidget and not meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “You used Iced Shell,” at Natsu’s low growl Gray fisted the sheets, crunching the frost, “you **promised** you wouldn’t and you did it anyway.” Natsu narrowed his eyes coldly. “Do we really mean so little to you?”_

_Gray’s head shot up and his pained eyes met the fire mage’s. “No! No, of course not! You—you guys are everything to me,” his voice tapered off to a whisper, “I couldn’t let you die, Natsu.”_

_“And you think sacrificing yourself was the better option?!” Natsu roared. Flames flickered across his skin, surging against the ice that crept up silently. Natsu’s hand shot out and grasped Gray’s chin tightly, his fingers aching from the sheer **cold** of Gray’s skin. “That’s never an option. **Never** , Gray. Got it?” Natsu’s thumb stroked his mate’s jaw to soften his words. _

_Gray sighed quietly, leaning into Natsu’s warmth. “Got it,” he murmured. Natsu grinned and kissed him again._

 

* * *

 

The red Dragon bared its teeth at the freezing substance. The Ice hovered possessively around Ice Mate and Dragon wanted to roar its disapproval. Ice Mate was _theirs_ , its and Natsu’s, and Ice can’t keep Ice Mate from them.

Dragon watched Natsu speak to Ice Mate, but kept its focus on the icy magick. Why do you keep Ice Mate from us? He is _ours_! Our mate!

Ice sneered and dropped the temperature further. Gray is _my_ mage. I do not share my possessions.

 _Your_ possession? Dragon echoed. Ice Mate is our treasure, not yours. The red reptile snarled loudly. And we will fight to take him back!

Ice gathered itself into a menacing cloud of wintry vapor. Try and take him, then, Ice challenged.

Sparks crackled along Dragon’s gleaming fangs. Why? Why did _this_ magick have to replace Ice Make? Dragon had _adored_ Ice Make. Ice Make was calm and patient and loyal and courageous and everything Dragon could ever want in a mate and now it was _gone_. Gone, and Dragon and its human were stuck with this magick who was everything Ice Make wasn’t. No, that wasn’t true, Dragon mused as it studied Ice silently; Ice had many quirks similar to Ice Make. Quirks that, in actuality, were wonderful and yet made Dragon’s heart ache with longing. Thinking of its dead mate and the mimicked oddities stole the aggression out of Dragon.

Why? it keened softly. Why did you take away Ice Make?

Ice paused and regarded the melancholy beast, but remained silent.

Dragon lifted its head and glared at Ice. Ice Make was incredible! Why did you have to take it from us?!

Because Ice Make was dying, Ice admitted quietly. It surprised itself as it indulged in this reckless Dragon’s inquiries. Absorbing Ice Make into myself was the only way I could think of to save at least pieces of it.

Dragon’s nostrils flared in realization. Is that why you act like Ice Make?

Ice confirmed. I respected Ice Make and that is why I worked so tirelessly to save it and Gray.

Anger darkened the reptilian eyes as Dragon processed the reply. If you cared so much for Ice Make and Ice Mate, then why do you continue to keep Ice Mate from us? My human and I love Ice Mate! Why do you strive to make us all so unhappy?

It was Ice’s turn to be angry. I will not allow my mage to be hindered by the weak, it hissed, not when there are enemies who wish to do him great harm!

Weak? _Weak_?! Dragon roared. We are not _weak_!

Flames surged to life in a towering inferno as Dragon’s fury exploded. Ice was taken aback by the sheer intensity of those mighty flames. I should introduce this Dragon to Fire, it noted absently, Fire would enjoy this one.

The weak are the ones who believe they’re strong by themselves! Dragon hissed, forcing Ice to focus on it. My human and I have toppled foes that most would _cower_ from! And our mate was with us every step of the way. We protected him long before you came. How _dare_ you call us weak!

Ice pondered Dragon’s claims. Why should I let such a brash creature near my mage?

We will stay with Ice Mate whether you like it or not, Dragon vowed. He is our mate. Golden eyes narrowed. Try to keep him from us and my human and I will _show you wrath_.

The cold chill was reluctantly impressed. Most magics tended to just kowtow to the primals, but not this one. Then again, it _was_ a dragon. But then _again_ , most dragons tended to recognize the hierarchy when it was smashed into their faces. Not this one.

This dragon is just like Ice Make, Ice thought to itself. Ice Make didn’t grovel either, but stood tall and proud, even as it lay dying. Perhaps then, Ice considered, I could give it a chance? Dragons were loyal to a fault when it came to their mates, so Ice knew that Dragon posed no threat to Gray.

Making Gray unhappy wasn’t something Ice wanted. Whether that was leftover from Ice Make’s love for Gray, or Ice’s own desires was irrelevant. Gray loved this cocky, pink-haired mage and his reckless inferno of a Dragon. Having them around comforted Gray and Ice was aware of that. Maybe they would be able to help Gray calm down enough to work properly with Ice? Perhaps Ice will allow this Dragon to remain close.

I have certainly been taking many leaps of faith recently, it noted dryly to itself. Ice glanced over Dragon and decided.

Dragon blinked at Ice shuffled closer warily until a soft coolness brushed up against the searing, red scales. Dragon unconsciously purred with pleasure at the feeling.

Oh, Ice whispered to itself as it settled next to Dragon, this is what being warm feels like.

 

* * *

 

Natsu and Gray leaned against one another as they watched their magics interact. They had felt the sharp anger zip back and forth between the too. Ached at the grief Natsu’s Dragon projected. Tensed as Ice made its decision. In the end, they rejoiced with a sweet kiss as their magic finally, _finally_ , allowed themselves to connect.

The two Fairy Tail mages knew that together, they would be able to face any foe that came their way.

Which would happen to be sooner rather than later when the pair noticed the approach of their diminutive guild master.

“Gramps?” Natsu tilted his head.

“What’s up?” Gray frowned at the Master’s serious countenance. Ice and Dragon perked up from their relaxation.

“Boys,” Makarov began. Before he could go on, Gray and Ice shot to their feet. Ice flew back to Gray and hovered over him protectively as Gray’s eyes darted around the training grounds uneasily. Natsu stalked over, his Dragon growling and snarling at the dark miasma creeping over Magnolia.

Makarov’s face turned grave as his suspicions were confirmed. “It would appear,” he murmured, “that Descartes has returned.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! (Pretty sure that's the most unsurprising cliffhanger ever)  
> Eh whatever. You all were likely expecting this.  
> Hope you enjoyed! Only two more chapters left to go!  
> Any questions, comments, concerns? Leave me a note below! 
> 
> On a side note: my summer classes are nearing the end (Yay) so I'll have much more free time to write! 
> 
> See you lovely ladies and gents next chapter!


	12. A Soul's Corruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The penultimate chapter, Chapter XII! 
> 
> My summer classes are finished (yay) and I passed! (YAY)  
> I meant to have this out last week, but Real Life got in the way and I realized that I hadn't even finished the last portion ^^"  
> So ah, if the last parts feel awkward that's why :]  
> We're almost done here so stick with me for one more chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy~

 

The lanky man grinned widely as he surveyed the town before him. He salivated at the pulsing of the magick he sought. It was _right **there**_. So **_close_**. He would devour that magick. He would conquer the very ancients themselves and he would start right here.

That little ice mage had nothing on him. He had a belly full of souls. Souls of civilians and souls of powerful mages. An ache settled in his blackened heart at the thought of those powerful mages and a frown pulled at his sunken cheeks. Now what was that?

Before any thoughts about that strange pang in his chest could truly solidify, the man’s clouded mind zeroed in on the icy spikes that bespoke of the primeval magick alerting to his presence.

The man grinned once more, exposing yellowed teeth. Soon that magick would be his and then he could hunt down the others. Soon he would have the power to consume all the souls he could possibly want.

And it all begins with that pathetic little ice Fairy.

And so; with his crooked teeth, his twisted heart, and his corrupted mind, the skinny man strolled into the town of Magnolia, fully embracing the madness that danced behind his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Gray was...Gray was....Gray had no idea what he was. He was eight parts angry, five parts worried, and two parts nervous. His magick thrummed agitatedly as it had been doing since Makarov’s announcement. The ice mage sat at a table in the raucous guildhall, fingers staccato-ing on his knee; waiting. Natsu slouched next to him, radiating protectiveness and unease in tandem. 

Despite the emotions churning in his gut, Gray’s mind was clear. He knew what he had to do—he just had to convince everyone else to let him go. Descartes obviously wasn’t going to depart any time soon so the best option was for Gray to confront the madman head on. Gray was resolute about it, but the rest of the guild would sooner lock him in one of Freed’s Rune cages before they let him confront the monster that lusted for his blood.

Fuck that. No way was Gray going to sit on the sidelines and watch Descartes pound his family into the ground. 

He spoke up above the din. “I have to go.” Silence reigned at his pronouncement. “I have to go,” he repeated, “and no one here will persuade me otherwise, so save your breath.” 

Makarov’s face was troubled. “Gray—“ 

“No,” Gray cut him off firmly, rising to his feet. Ice crowded behind him, a protective, wintry shadow. “We are the only ones who can really pose a challenge to Descartes.” 

“’We’?” Lucy echoed, confused. Gray peered out of the corner of his eye and raised a hand. Ice gently pushed snow flurries through his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Gray murmured and turned to face the door, “we.” A burst of furnace heat and Natsu was by his side. 

“Dumbass,” he growled, eyes dancing with flame and anticipation, “don’t think you’re going by yourself.” 

Gray blinked before he smirked. “Think you can keep up, Flame Brain?” 

Natsu bared his teeth in a feral grin. “I’m the one who should be asking you that, Princess.”

Makarov looked between the two mages and sighed wearily. “Very well. I can see you won’t be dissuaded. You won’t be going alone, Gray, Natsu.” He glared at their token protests. “Fairy Tail sticks together, for better or for worse.” 

The resounding battle cry shook the walls. 

Ice quivered with excitement at the prospect of taking Descartes on. Gray smirked darkly at his magick’s fervor.

Descartes was going _down_.

 

* * *

 

Midnight eyes scanned the edge of the town where the sickly magick signature heralded Descartes’ arrival. Gray stood proudly at the front of his guild; Natsu and Makarov by his sides, Erza, Lucy, and the rest of the guild fanning out behind him.

“ _Little Fairy, little Fairy,_ ” a saccharine voice sang out, “ _where do you hide in this garden of flowers_?”

“Ugh,” Natsu muttered, curling his lip, “I swear this guy just keeps gettin’ _weirder_.”

Gray wholly agreed with the sentiment, eyes narrowed in on the lanky figure strolling into Magnolia.

Descartes’ grin at witnessing the waiting battalion of Fairies seemed to contort his face into disgusting proportions.

“Is it just me,” Lucy whispered, “or does he look... _wrong_?”

Erza gripped her sword tighter. “I would say that something was moving his body for him.”

As usual, Erza appeared to be right on the money. Descartes’ movements mirrored that of a marionette and Gray could almost attest to the man decaying right in front of them. His hair fell in a greasy, unkempt curtain and his skin was so sunken it hung off his skeleton.

But it was his eyes that had both Gray and Ice tensing in alarm. No longer were they the eyes of a misguided guildmaster who had only begun his dissension into the corruption by his magick. Now they were inhuman and only madness made its home in them. Nausea furled in Gray’s stomach and Ice hissed freezing mist over his shoulder.

“There you are my little icy Fairy,” Descartes purred. “I was worried I would have to hunt you down! Instead, you’ve made my job so much easier by appearing right before me!” He giggled and his body stuttered like a puppet as it moved.

“You’re not getting _anything_ from me, you nut-job,” Gray growled. Frost crept along his skin in Ice’s agitation.

Descartes stiffened in fury. “You think you can keep that magick from me?” He snarled. His magick pulsed under his skin and the oppressive atmosphere thickened. All the other mages apart from Gray and Makarov shuddered at the feeling of the Soul Magick.

Makarov’s own magic weathered the feeling, resistant. Ice scrutinized the Soul Magick carefully, noting its increase in power and potency. To gain such intensity, Soul Magick would have had to absorb the energies of other magics...

Soul has become stronger, Ice whispered in Gray’s ear; I assume it has consumed souls of powerful mages recently.

The ice mage stiffened at the words. Descartes had consumed mage souls before confronting Gray? His mind raced at the implications, drawing conclusions and making a startling observation, all in the span of a few seconds. Descartes had a guild. He had a guild of admittedly strong mages. So why was he alone...?

It was Natsu who voiced the question that plagued Gray’s mind. “Oi, Bastard! Where’s your guild?”

Descartes grinned once more, previous fury gone. “Oh my guild? There’s no need to worry about them. They have already been so very helpful to further me toward my goals! I assure you, my dear Dragon, that my guild’s might has not gone to waste.”

Quiet murmurs arose from Descartes’ words. Most dismissed them as the ramblings of a madman, but something was nagging Gray and he had a feeling he didn’t really want an answer to the question in his head.

Erza frowned deeply. “What do you mean? Where is your guild?” Descartes giggled as the question was posed again. The Titania glared at him.

Gray turned Ice’s earlier remark over and over in his head, comparing it to the fact that Descartes had confronted Fairy Tail alone.... _alone_...when he had a guild of mages that gave Fairy Tail a challenge at his disposal. _Powerful_ mages...

_Soul has become stronger; I assume it has consumed souls of powerful mages recently._

Gray was going to be sick.

Descartes’ cackle jerked him out of his thoughts. Makarov once again questioned the lack of the man’s guild. Once again, Descartes just grinned. Gray needed to speak his conclusion. Needed to make sure everyone _knew_.

“You’re guild isn’t here,” Gray had to pull the words from his throat. As he continued, anger darkened his eyes. “They aren’t here because you _ate them_. You ate their _souls_ , you sick _fuck_.” The last curse tore as a snarl. Jagged icicles stabbed across the ground as the temperature dropped. The atmosphere supercharged with the righteous wrath of Magnolia’s Fairy Tail.

Lesser mages have cowered under the brunt of Fairy Tail’s fury, disgust, and scorn, but Descartes only _laughed_.

“What the _fuck_?” Natsu roared. “You _ate_ them? How could you?! _They were your family, you damned **bastard**_!” Flames licked his skin and dark eyes lightened into Draconian amber.

The irate fire mage burst into a raging inferno as he launched himself at the madman. A flash of silver and scarlet revealed Erza following the Dragonslayer. Orange and black, Loke and Gajeel. Water and ice snuck in at Juvia and Lyon’s command. Purple runes armed with lightning shot through the crowd of vengeful mages to try and hit their mark.

A convergence of attacks of all kinds of magics struck the smirking man in a bright flash of light. An intake of breath as the light cleared and the outpour of magical energy subsided.

A hideous chuckle chilled them to the bone. The smoke cleared and revealed Descartes, untouched by the spells that hit and positively rippling with absorbed energy.

The Fairy Tail mages grit their teeth in disbelief and made to strike again. Willing to hit the man as many times as it took in order to beat him into a pulp. Descartes, however, was not in the mood to cater to the whims of the Fairies.

He raised a hand and released his own wordless spell.

The whiplash of magickal energy blasted the Fairy Tail mages off their feet, catapulting them away from Descartes. As the mages picked themselves off the ground, a thick, mucus-like coat of magick covered them, tendrils snaking back to Descartes.

“W-what is this?” Juvia gasped as the slimy magick seeped into the pores of her skin. As the magick entered their bloodstream and worked its way to their magic cores, convulsions shook the afflicted mages where they lay. Screams of agony deafened those remaining.

Descartes cackled loudly, hunching over as his body shook with the force of his laughter. His glee rose at the sounds of their cries. How lovely was their pain! If only a certain Fairy as among the affected, but the ice mage had not attacked rashly. The madman locked his gaze on the seething ice Fairy. A tiny trickle of fear ran down his spine at the _fury_ in Gray’s eyes.

Anger quaked his frame and frost thickened on his limbs. Ice lashed out and froze the earth around Gray into solid ice. The temperature plummeted in response.

Descartes knew he had to act quickly. Magick concentrated into a thick sheet before it sprung at the ice mage. With its fast strike, Soul tried to dominate the Fairy by a sheer overwhelming radius of attack.

Ice was absolutely having _none_ _of that_. How dare! How _dare_ this _creature_ —this _lusus naturae_ —attack _its_ mage! How dare this unnatural specimen before them try to claim _its_ mage and _its_ guild. Gray was _Ice’s_ and Fairy Tail was Gray’s; ergo, Fairy Tail was Ice’s as well. And no disgusting, puppetous _thing_ was going to change that.

Ice shielded its mage with a cloud of frosted magick and froze the swarm of Soul before shattering it into dissipating shards. Ice didn’t need to communicate its next course of action, the ice mage having already grasped the plan. Raising his hands, Gray readied his spell.

“Ice Make: Scythe Chains!” Icy sickles hooked to the ends of frozen chains flew towards the downed Fairies with a swing of Gray’s arms. The ice pierced the tendrils of magick connected to each mage and froze them. With a jerk of the clinking chains, the tendrils shattered. The magick coursing through the fallen Fairies shriveled up and dissipated with no source energy to feed from. The formerly afflicted mages cheered and began to stand so they could fight again, but a wall of clear ice halted them in their tracks.

The ice surrounded the guild, preventing them from interfering. Beside Gray, Makarov leapt back toward his other children when the air froze into a wall, separating the entire guild from Gray and Descartes.

“Gray!” Makarov snapped in alarm. “What are you doing?!”

“I won’t allow this freak to hurt my family.” Gray replied simply, eyes never leaving his opponent. “This ends right now, Descartes.” The ice mage ignored the furious protests of his guildmates—Natsu in particular—and stepped closer to his foe.

“Finally,” Descartes purred in delight, “just you and me, little icy fae.” Crazed eyes darted around, taking in the creeping frost and noting his shivering breaths.

“No,” Gray remarked stoically, footsteps leaving ice in his wake, “it’s just me.” Midnight eyes lightened into a shining icy blue as frigid skin solidified. Descartes’ expression morphed into a mutated snarl and he lashed out with staggering movements at Gray. The ice mage destroyed his attack easily, still making his way slowly forward.

With each step, Descartes desperation to strike Gray down grew until it overcame with sloppy, chopped attacks. Attacks that were easily trumped by Gray’s superior power and skill.

Still, Gray advanced. “If you thought I would let you lay a finger on my family without punishment, you’re more stupid than I believed.” He stopped; only a few feet separated them now.

Descartes would not give in. If he just consumed this one’s soul, he’d have nearly infinite power! He refused to stop now; he refused to bow to this pathetic, _worthless **Fairy**_!

The lanky man was frothing at the mouth at the closeness of his goal. One last desperate strike was leveled at Gray. But just before he released his magick, he felt a cold chill in his fingers. The chill crept down his fingers into his palm. Why couldn’t he feel his hand? He glanced down and nearly screeched in horror.

His fingers, his _hand_ , was blue. The very blood was frozen to the point that the skin that encased it was frozen as well. His horror grew as the ice crawled slowly down his arms, blood freezing in its wake. A sheer cold in his feet and in his other hand had him panicking. His eyeballs rolled in their sockets until they landed on his target.

Gray’s glowing eyes bore into his very being. They offered no remorse, no mercy; only an ancient, hyperborean wrath.

There was no escape for Descartes. No absolution for the crazed, raving mage who had murdered his own wife and guild for the sake of power. All that was left for the rotten man was the slow assurance of an icy death. Fairy Tail wizards do not kill; if there is a death, it is only done in self defense.

Gray was willing to argue the point. He watched dispassionately as the ice reached Descartes’ heart, reached his brain. He watched with cold, hard eyes as the man didn’t even have time to take a last, panicked breath before succumbing to the unforgiving cold. This man had hurt Gray’s family, had caused the death of Ur’s magic, had murdered his own family.

For once, Gray did not feel regret for causing a death. He wondered if that made him a shit person.

However, Gray didn’t have long to contemplate his morals because the moment Descartes became a amateur ice sculpture, there was a veritable explosion of magick.

Soul poured from Descartes’ frozen corpse and converged in the air in a cloud of unfathomable rage. The nebula of magick smothered the atmosphere in an attempt to suffocate nature itself. So unnatural was the feel of this magick—long since corrupted, it had warped and decayed into an avatar of perversion and despair—that Gray’s stomach rebelled and he wretched.

Ice quickly spread itself all around Gray. Soul was twisted and rotting, but it was _strong_. It had consumed the souls of strong mages as well as nearly all of Descartes, its host, which had given it a strength Ice was wary of.

Soul whipped magick at Gray, as fast as thought. Ice fused with Gray and made him leap out of the way, avoiding the attack by the skin of his teeth. Soul did not give them time to plan, however. Strike after strike, it actively streaked after Gray in a enraged frenzy. With each frenetic attack, Ice was forced on the defensive. Gray relinquished control to Ice so that the primordial was able to fully concentrate on fighting Soul.

Ice didn’t let Gray’s choice go wasted and retaliated with a shower of wickedly sharp spikes of ice that landed dead center in the manic cloud of magick. The primeval force maneuvered Gray’s body skillfully, wary of damage. Soul was clever, unfortunately, and managed to hit Gray in the chest, slamming him straight back into his own ice wall. A crater formed in the thick sheet of glacier from the force of Gray’s impact and the ice mage fell forward and hit the earth with a dull _thud_.

Gray groaned and painstakingly got to his knees. Are you well? Ice asked rapidly. I am sorry, Soul caught me by surprise.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gray wheezed, “I’m okay. I’ll just be feeling that tomorrow.” He flicked his gaze over to the rapidly approaching Soul Magick. Springing to his feet, he dodged to the side of another onslaught. “What are we going to do with this thing?” he asked his magick. Gray summoned a volley of ice arrows to occupy Soul.

I have an idea, Ice murmured, but you will need to trust me unconditionally.

Gray glanced at his partner, frowning. “What are you thinking?”

Ice steeled itself before replying. We will need help. Soul is too strong for us to defeat on our own, not if we mean to eradicate it completely.

“Eradicate?” Gray back flipped away from Soul’s bombardment. “What do you mean?”

We have to erase Soul, Ice spoke gravely. It cannot be allowed to continue. Already it is a perversion of nature; and as a force of nature, I must do all in my power to cleanse it.

Gray paused and nearly paid for it at Soul’s counterstrike. An assault of icy cannon fire kept the damned thing busy for a moment as Gray turned incredulously toward his magick. “Erase it? Cleanse nature? Hate to tell you, Ice, but I’m no supernatural janitor nor do I moonlight as a Priest. I doubt I can do stuff like that.”

Of course not, Ice snorted in disbelief; you have no power to decide this. Only those of my ilk can make such a decision.

“Well great,” Gray muttered crossly, “glad I’m such a big help.”

Gray, Ice said seriously, you must trust me completely. I don’t know what will happen with the other primal energies, but you must trust me. And I  _will_ protect you from any damage they might unintentionally inflict. 

Gray hesitated. He trusted Ice, yes, but with this? Gray was having problems dealing with one primordial, he didn’t think he was equipped to handle any more.

But...there was no question that the Soul Magick needed to be destroyed. People throughout history did their best to eradicate all evidence, but some had obviously survived. It seems it was up to Gray and his soon-to-be merry band of all-powerful ancient forces of nature to rid the world of the rest of it.

“Okay,” Gray breathed, quite sure that he had lost his marbles, “okay. I’ll trust you. Do your thing.”

Thank you, Ice whispered.

There was an influx of energy, as if nature itself was forming right in Magnolia.

Apparently, the primeval energies had decided to spectate the whole affair, a reality the nearly sent Gray into hysterics. Strangely, more so than the realization that each primordial had its own personality and quirks.

Fire was obnoxious and loud. Water laidback and surprisingly meticulous. Air was carefree and effervescent. Earth quiet yet unyielding. Lightning zipped around in a sparking fever whilst Thunder followed affably.

And those were just the ones Gray could actively name. There were thousands; some just flitting about in wonder, others assessing the situation with a frightening calculation. Some were excited to meet Gray, some cautious, others hostile. And there were a few, bless them, that hadn’t the faintest idea what was happening and were simply happy to be there.

It was a lot to take in and Gray, frankly, knew there wasn’t time to comprehend all of this at the moment, so score one for compartmentalization.

“Hey,” Gray nudged Ice and nodded to the growling Soul Magick, “might want to start sometime soon.” Ice bobbed in concession and hurried over to its fellow primals. The decision didn’t take long to finalize nor long to implement.

“Human,” Water called, “we will lend you our power so that you may purge this blight.” Gray shut his eyes tightly as the primal energies flowed around him.

Trust me, Gray, Ice whispered comfortingly, trust me and let us end this.

 

* * *

 

A white aura flared around the Fairy Tail mage. Gray lifted his head; his eyes shone with a blinding white power that pulsed in the cracks that surrounded his eyes. All along his body, cracks snaked about, releasing wisps of white magickal energy.

He raised a hand and disintegrated the arc of evil magick that had been hurled at him. The particles of the corrupted magick screeched as they were cleansed and reabsorbed safely into Gray’s body.

Gray turned his head and bore down on Soul. In his eyes, he saw nothing but a putrid, festering mass of vile magick. A mass of magick that corroded the air it writhed in, plaguing this realm with rot.

“No longer,” Gray murmured, “no longer will we allow you to putrefy the world with your disease.” White tendrils of energy leaped relentlessly toward the Soul Magick.

Soul snarled like a cornered animal as it furled up away from the burning tendrils. I will do as I please! Am I not allowed life? Allowed to grow and change as you all do?

Gray narrowed his eyes. “All things are allowed life, that is their prerogative. But your definition of life comes at the cost of others. Your life corrupts our lives and that is unacceptable.”

He let me in! Soul protested angrily. That foolish human brought me to life! Gave me souls to feast upon and granted me access to himself! Why am I not allowed to exist, to take my due from the pathetic humans, when it is by their hand I am even called into existence at all?

Gray considered. Soul’s argument was true, was sound, even; but it would not cease with its depravity, would always look for a way to gain more power by feasting on the energy of another. It had consumed the souls of innocents, and nearly the unfortunate it had warped to carry out its desires. Soul could not be allowed a continuation of existence.

“We are sorry,” regret poured through Gray’s voice, “but your wickedness will never be sated. Therefore, your existence will be terminated.”

Soul screeched and writhed. Just try! Just try and take what is rightfully mine!

“Very well.” Gray reached out and grasped Soul with his energy. The pitiful magick recoiled and squirmed, screaming curses as Gray slowed began to purify the energy cloud in his hands.

It was a tiring process. One that Gray hoped he would never have to perform again. During the beginning of the purification process, Soul had cursed them with every fiber of its being, had screamed its hatred. As it went on, the curses and screams began to lessen, to quiet. Only when the lamentable creature was nearly gone did its cries turn to soft pleas of mercy, to hushed begging and mournful misery. Gray handled the little being with an infinite gentleness, trying to assuage the fear he felt radiating from it. He whispered soothing prayers in its last moments as it finally was purged and reabsorbed into nature, free of twisted sentience and corruption.

Gray remained still in a silent vigil. Soul had been evil, that was true, but it had been existing in the only way it knew how. And for that, Gray grieved.

“It is done.” Gray murmured, the white energy finally starting to fade. “It is over. Our realm is tranquil once more.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Lusus naturae' means 'freak of nature' in Latin. Which I uh borrowed from "Lusus Naturae" by Jeff Williams because that was my jam throughout the entire last half of this chapter.
> 
> I thought the ending was a bit stilted, but eh, I don't feel like changing it
> 
> On a school related note, I'm heading back up to my actual college next week. Huzzah for fall semesters
> 
> Anyway, Thanks so much for reading! Comments are love :3  
> See all you lovely people next chapter! <3


	13. Where Do We Go From Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. The final chapter, Chapter XIII. 
> 
> What a ride, eh? I hope it was exciting. And now, a few things to address...
> 
> First and foremost: THANK YOU EVERYONE! It really meant a lot to me that you gave this story a chance. To all my anonymous people, thanks for reading! To those who dropped me a kudos, thanks so very much! And to everybody who left me a comment at some point, I appreciate the feedback! I loved hearing from you all :)
> 
> Second: I won't be continuing this 'verse. Will there come a time where I'll be eating those words? Most likely not. So this is probably going to be the first and last installment in this 'verse. 
> 
> Third: With the completion of this work, I can now move on to other things! Yay (finally, lol)
> 
> Phew, that's done. Any questions, comments, concerns? Drop me a comment! 
> 
> With all that being said, I hope you enjoy that last chapter! 
> 
> Thank you again!

 

The aftermath of the battle with Descartes saw to the reestablishment of normalcy in the guild of the Fairies. Celebrations were set to last for an entire week and most of Magnolia was astounded at the sheer number of mages flooding into their town, all from other guilds, in order to attend Fairy Tail’s party. All those who went up against Descartes and his sinister magick partook in the joy of victory with everything they had.

They had _won_. Descartes was no more.

One mage, however, was reluctant to participate in the festivities. The dark haired ice mage sat at a quiet table, sullenly stirring the icy beverage in front of him. Gray didn’t feel in the mood to participate in his guild’s merriment. His body still screamed at him for accepting all those primordials into his magic system—Ice had done its best, but Gray still felt like utter shit after holding those primal energies, like lava was crawling through his nerves. He didn’t stop Natsu or his magick from entertaining themselves however they saw fit, but he didn’t join. How could he? He had killed a man; rather cruelly. He had caused the deaths of people who had the misfortune of getting caught up in Descartes’ madness. Was everybody just going to forget that?

Gray sighed and pushed his drink away. Folding his arms, he rested his head down on them, wincing as his nerves protested the movement. He should be out there with everyone; he should be reveling in the fact that a psycho wasn’t out for his head anymore. But all he could think about was Descartes’ last look of sickening fear and despair, Soul’s broken pleas for mercy. All he could focus on was the thought that the members of the Gypsy’s Hoard were murdered because of _him_. Those memories echoed in his ears and haunted his nightmares and Gray just couldn’t find it within himself to celebrate.

Did that make him weak? Pathetic for mourning the deaths of enemies who had caused such agony?

“Are you going to just sit inside an empty guildhall all night, Gray?” Gray looked up to see the Master of Fairy Tail regarding him silently. The man’s cheeks were flushed with the beginnings of drunkenness, but his dark eyes were startlingly sharp and sober. “Even our friends from other places have come to join in the festivities.”

“Gramps! I, uh,” Gray stammered quickly, trying to put his thoughts together in an orderly fashion. “Uh, well, I, um.”

Makarov was quiet for a long moment as he studied his brat. “You are thinking about that man and his magick, aren’t you?” He ventured finally, proving, once again, that he had mind-reader capabilities. Gray started to protest, but at one Look, he slumped with a defeated sigh.

“Yeah, I am,” he muttered, not meeting his Master’s gaze. “I just...I just can’t enjoy myself when I did what I did.” He raised his head, conflicting emotions drowning in his eyes. “I—I killed a man, Gramps,” he whispered. “I killed him in a slow, absurdly cruel manner, and I destroyed his magick wholly and completely. I am the cause of the deaths of those mages in his guild. How can I be happy when I did all of _that_?”

The aging guild master sighed deeply, running a hand down his face. He hopped up onto the table and sat down next to the ice mage. “I don’t like my children killing, Gray. I don’t like them having that burden hanging over their heads. I try to teach them to never commit such an act. However,” he sighed again, looking every bit his vast age, “there are times when killing cannot be avoided. In those circumstances, the only thing we can do, is remind ourselves of what is important. Remind ourselves of _why_ we committed the deed. In your case,” Makarov peered closely at Gray, “and likely in the case of everyone in this guild, you did it to protect the people you love, your family.”

“As for the other mages, there was _nothing_ you could have possibly done, Gray.” Makarov bore his stare into his child’s. “I am positive that Descartes was always going to commit that atrocity. He wanted to further his goals, and his guild’s lives were what he needed in order to do so.” Gray didn’t speak as his guild master went on. “It is most unfortunate that their deaths were part of Descartes’ plan to target you, and I am truly sorry that you have to bear that alone. But please don’t make their sacrifices meaningless by drowning yourself in guilt for both their deaths and the death of Descartes.”

At Gray’s torn expression, Makarov reached over and grasped the ice mage’s shoulder tightly. “I do not condone killing, Gray, but I feel that, in your case here, the outcome could be nothing else. Descartes was a foe who would not have been stopped any other way.” Gray’s eyes fell to the table. “That does not mean your guilt is misplaced. It is good that you feel remorse for taking the life of another, but you must move onwards. Your family is still here because of your actions. Take comfort in that.”

Makarov patted Gray’s arm before hopping down from the table. As he made his way from the guild hall and back into the raucous party, he turned back to glance at Gray over his shoulder. “When you set your thoughts in the right place, you’ll come and join us, won’t you, Gray?”

Gray didn’t get a chance to answer before Makarov left. He returned to his drink and thought.

What if Makarov was right? What if Descartes couldn’t have been dealt with any other way? That still wouldn’t make killing him right. Maybe Gray could’ve spoken to him, gotten him back to his senses? But if his own wife and guild couldn’t, were likely killed because they couldn’t talk him down, then Gray probably stood no chance. What then? What could Gray have done?

Gray hated that the only solution he could come up with was the same. Descartes’ death was the only thing that kept his family safe.

Because that man would have never stopped; would have relentlessly pursued his target for all time. So perhaps it was best to have rid the world of that man here and now. Yet could that man have even been called a man at all? When the mind has been lost so thoroughly and reduced to such a state, the person can be likened to that of a rabid animal. So perhaps that could be considered a mercy killing; but a killing nonetheless.

That reasoning didn’t make Gray feel any reprieve from his guilt. At the time, he didn’t regret killing Descartes. _Relief_ was his companion then; relief that Descartes and his ilk were no longer able to harm those Gray loved, relief that the man had paid for murdering his own guildmates. As time went on, though, Gray felt more and more guilt until he avoided the deserved celebrations because he can’t deal with the fact that he had killed a man and had been _glad_ about it.

Gray groaned and rubbed his temples. He was thinking himself into an infinite loop. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his restless mind.

Maybe Makarov was right; maybe this situation was unavoidable. There was no way Gray would have been able to save the guildmates of a madman and his crazy fucking magic. Descartes had been out of his mind, rabid like his magic. It was best for him to have been put down.

Right...?

Fuck. Gray didn’t like his mind sometimes.

The door burst open and Gray yelped, throwing his drink at the sudden intrusion.

“Hey Ice Prin—OW!” A shattering of glass told Gray he hit his target. “What the fuck was that for, you icy prick?” Whoops. That had been Natsu...

“Flame Brain,” Gray stared at his boyfriend, taking the flushed cheeks and buzzed gaze.

Natsu glared balefully at him for a moment before his signature grin stretched across his face. “What the hell you doin’ sitting in here by yourself for? C’mon! Everyone else is outside havin’ fun!”

“Natsu,” Gray began, but the fire mage was having none of it. He bounded forward and grabbed Gray’s hand.

“Don’t be such a droopy drawers!” It was Gray’s turn to glare, but Natsu cheerfully ignored it. Instead he tugged on his mate’s hand and dragged him out of the guildhall.

“C’mon, Princess! Let’s go party!”

 

* * *

 

Gray groaned as Natsu slammed him up against the wall, searing lips leaving a burning trail down his neck. His mind pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol, Gray felt euphoria running through his system rather than the crippling agony of before. It had taken Natsu’s persistence, his magick’s insistence, and copious amounts of more alcohol for Gray to finally stop letting the guilt overwhelm him.

He shoved the guilt into the back of his mind and allowed himself to enjoy the celebrations. After all, his family and his mate were _safe_.

A shiver accompanied Natsu’s roaming hands. When the fire mage ghosted his fingers over the huge ice patch on Gray’s ribs, the ice mage gasped wildly. Natsu immediately jerked back, thinking he had injured his mate.

“What, did that hurt?” Natsu peered urgently at Gray, worry overcoming the haze of alcohol.

Gray was still tingling as he shook his head. “N-no,” he panted, “no t-that felt...” He grabbed Natsu’s fingers and placed them on the ice patch on his hip. A shudder wracked the ice mage’s frame as soon as the burning fingers brushed against the solid ice.

Natsu curled his fingers around Gray’s hip, brow raised at Gray’s increased panting. “Sensitive much?” He ventured inquiringly. His pupils dilated in lust at Gray’s breathless nod. A devious grin pulled at Natsu’s lips and he pounced onto Gray’s neck, tracing his tongue up the patch that curled about the ice mage’s neck and jaw.

Gray moaned, arching his neck to give Natsu and his burning tongue more access. Natsu’s hot, panting breathes sent more shivers down his spine and he whined softly as his mate kissed the ice on his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re so _sexy_ ,” Natsu growled in Gray’s ear. “You drive me insane, Princess.” He swallowed Gray’s breathless laughs in a kiss.

Gray ran his fingers through Natsu’s pink hair and trailed his other hand down the Dragonslayer’s cheek. The fire mage hissed as fingers of pure ice settled on his neck and notched his lust higher.

Natsu pulled back with a rumbling growl and took in his mate’s disheveled appearance. Gray’s hair was damp with melted frost—his bangs had steadfastly remained frozen in little icicles, curiously enough—and his pale skin was flushed pink. The patches of ice-skin were as dry as non-melted ice could be, not once weakening in the face of Natsu’s overbearing heat. Interesting.

Plus they were apparently _sensitive_ , pleasurably so. Oh, was Natsu going to have _fun_ with _that_.

Natsu wanted Gray and refused to wait any longer. He dragged his mate home and into their bedroom, pinning him to the bed with passionate kisses. He was going to devour his mate and drown him in his affection.

Gray hummed contentedly at Natsu’s attention, pleasure spiking through him with each touch on the overly-sensitive ice-skin patches. He was certain his actual skin was going to be littered with marks of possession by the time morning came.

Devoured by a dragon indeed.

Gray wouldn’t have it any other way. He was grateful to be able to still revel in Natsu’s love. He returned his mate’s kisses with equal fervor, not planning on wasting a single moment of tonight.

He’d face whatever the future held tomorrow. For now, soaking up his beloved Dragon’s warmth was heaven enough.

 

* * *

 

A shaft of cheerful sunlight slipped through the curtains and made itself home on the face of a snoozing Dragonslayer. Said Dragonslayer scrunched up his face and shifted with a disgruntled grumble, blinking bleary eyes open and squinted around the room. Catching a glimpse of the bright sun in the gap between the curtains, the dragon growled softly and reached over to the other side of the bed, intent on curling up with his mate and sleeping the day away.

Only, his hand hit vacant sheets and not a wintry body. Natsu’s eyes shot wide, fully awake, and gazed at the empty part of the bed in concern. Quickly vacating the bed, Natsu followed the scent of glaciers and pine trees into the bathroom where his mate was studying the mirror with an alarming concentration.

Gray scrutinized his new appearance. He lifted a hand to gently touch the ice patch on his neck—noting that it wasn’t as sensitive to his own touch as it was to Natsu’s—and traced it up to his jaw and down to his collarbone. It was ice; solid, _freezing_ ice that was completely transparent. Gray freaked a bit as he spied the bones of his clavicle and jaw right through the ice; and, if he turned his neck far enough, he could just glimpse his neck bones. Further examination revealed that the pieces of ice-skin had extended, covering more area now than they had before Gray had fought Descartes the final time. Raising his other hand to touch the mirror slightly, his eyes flicked at the glimpse of blue and darted over to his right hand.

Two of his fingers—his middle and pointer—were ice. He wiggled his fingers and watched, with a morbid sort of fascination, as all the little bones moved. To add to that, he noticed that his other, non-frozen fingers had blue tips, like the beginnings of frostbite. A flash of uncertainty had him curling his hand into a fist with no trouble, not even a sound of scraping from his two icy fingers.

With a contemplative frown, Gray went back to the mirror. This time, instead of zeroing in on the obvious ice-skin, he studied the minute details of his new look. Hypothermia-blue lips, skin so pale that his veins were easily discernable, hair coated with perpetual frost, and the tips of his hair and end of his bangs were frozen into little icicles. Eyes, once the darkest blue, now possessed a ring of icy blue around his iris, giving them a two-toned color. His body temperature was so low that his skin had a layer of permafrost and he saw the wisps of icy mist wafting from him.

He looked like the personification of winter itself. Gray wasn’t sure how he really felt about that. He looked at himself again and wondered what the people of Magnolia would think when they see him. Would they be afraid? Gray didn’t look exactly human anymore.

Frost crept along the mirror, the glass creaking. What’s the matter? Ice asked curiously.

“I don’t look like me anymore,” Gray mumbled, frowning at his reflection. “I don’t even look _human_.”

You look fine to me, Ice mused.

Gray gritted his teeth in irritation. “Easy for you to say,” he hissed quietly, “you don’t have to deal with people’s reactions to this.”

Ice rolled its metaphoric eyeballs. Gray, it started sternly, did you really think that you could just bond to something like me and _not_ be affected? You should be thankful it’s just your magic and appearance that’s be altered. Most would never have survived bonding with the likes of me, Ice concluded.

“I know!” Gray insisted hotly. “I know. It’s just...”

“Just what?” Natsu decided it was time to interrupted. He saw the loathing and discomfort that was slowly creeping into Gray’s eyes and needed to put a stop to that _right now_.

Gray whipped around and blinked rapidly at Natsu, cursing himself for getting so distracted. “Nothing, Fireface.”

Natsu narrowed his eyes in a glare. “Is that so? Then why are you looking at your reflection so uncomfortably?”

Gray scowled darkly at his mate. “It’s none of your business, Cinder Breath.”

“None of my business?” Natsu scoffed. “Snowman, you’re my boyfriend. It _is_ my business. Why are you looking like you hate the way you look?” When Gray didn’t answer, Natsu prodded further. “I said, why are you hating the way you look now?”

“Because I look like a freak!” Gray burst out angrily. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t look like me, I don’t even look human! I look like a damned monster!”

A snarl ripped from Natsu’s throat as he stalked forwards and grabbed Gray’s chin in his fingers. “You are not a freak. You are not a _monster_. You are Gray and that’s all you are and will ever be. Don’t _ever_ say stuff about yourself like that again. Got it?”

Gray was silent for a long time until he finally nodded wordlessly. “Got it,” he whispered. Natsu grinned brightly and turned to make his way to the kitchen.

“You hungry, Snowflake? I’m starved.”

“Am I even going to get to eat? You’re a black hole when it comes to food, Ash Breath.” Gray deadpanned as he followed.

“I resent that,” Natsu muttered, throwing a glare at Gray, who skillfully ignored him.

Gray prepared to sling back a retort when there was a _tap-tap_ on the window. He wandered over and opened it, peering out in confusion at the empty air. Shrugging, he left the window up to let in the soothing breeze.

Let’s just say he didn’t _intend_ to invite his new, ah, _guests_ inside as well.

A constant cloud of energy slithered through his window and condensed in various places in his living room. So many energy presences had invited themselves in that the room felt suffocating and Gray noticed that more energy signatures were piled right outside the window and looking in.

“What?” He asked blankly, growing even more confused when Ice engulfed him possessively.

Go away, Ice hissed at the energy signatures. Gray is _mine_!

(And—oh _fuck his life, seriously_ —Gray realized just _what_ the other energy signatures were.)

No, Fire whined loudly, we want to play with Gray, too!

Why do you have to keep all the nice things to yourself, Ice? Water demanded waspishly.

Air had no qualms about darting right into Ice’s personal space. Pleasepleaseplease can we play with Gray? It begged Ice.

No! Ice wrapped tighter around Gray. Find your own human!

(Gray heaved a long sigh. How the fuck was this his _life_?) (He was ignored.)

Earth glared fiercely at Ice. There is no one else like Caster Gray Fullbuster, it intoned lowly.

Of course not, Ice purred smugly, Gray is _my_ mage.

Lightning tried to sneak around the side, but Ice whipped a snap of cold at it. Lightning retreated behind Thunder with a wounded whine. Thunder patted it consolingly.

Rain, Tree, and Cloud took the easier route and merely waved merrily at Gray. The ice mage waved back uncertainly. The trio brightened considerably and gazed at Gray with a mix of curiosity and infatuation.

Ice, who had approved of their innocent wave greetings, now glowered jealously at them.

Ice smirked, however, when it felt a blast of reptilian heat bustle into the living room. Dragon took one glance at the situation before marching right next to Ice and hissing at the newcomers.

Ice Mate is ours, it hissed, not yours! Leave!

Ice and Dragon frog-marched the other primordial forces of magick back out of Gray’s apartment window, where they stood guard.

(Natsu had appeared not long after Dragon and questioned Gray. To which the ice mage had just shrugged helplessly and watched the proceedings in disbelief.)

The primeval energies were not pleased, to say the least, about Ice and Dragon’s possessiveness over the Caster Gray Fullbuster. There had never been anyone like this human before! Why did Ice have to be such a buzzkill?

The ancient forces were _curious_. None of their kind had ever bonded to a human mage in all of history. Now they heard that Ice—their fickle, temperamental sibling—of all forces had bonded to a human. Was it so wrong that they had wanted to know what was so special about this human?

Many of them had been swayed to adoration of Gray when they had fought Soul alongside that human. A few of those had been so shy of meeting the human that they hid behind others. Of course, some of their more crotchety siblings— _coughMountaincough_ —were never going to like Caster Gray Fullbuster.

But that was neither here nor there. They had all seen what Ice saw and agreed that Caster Gray Fullbuster was worth their attention. The human was strong and courageous, with a modesty and sincere kindness that had obviously swayed Ice. It irked some of them to admit, but they were _envious_ of Ice. They wanted to enjoy Caster Gray Fullbuster’s closeness, too!

But _noooo_ , Ice just _had_ to pull out its possessiveness and wrangle that Fire Dragon to do the same, preventing any of them from spending time with their favorite human!

And it didn’t help that Ice and Fire Dragon were _rubbing their misfortune in their faces_. The other primordials glared menacingly at the pair.

Ice and Dragon taunted the fact that Gray was _theirs_. Their ice human and they were not going to give him up. They heckled the other primals mercilessly from the safety of _their_ ice human’s abode.

It was the heckling that made Gray shake his head. For all that Ur’s magic had influenced Ice, it was obvious that Ice was still very much its own magick. Ur’s magic had had a quiet dignity that Gray appreciated, especially during the recurring crazy of being a Fairy Tail wizard. Ice, evidently, had no such dignity, and resorted to childishness alongside Natsu’s magic.

The worst part about it was that Gray wasn’t sure who was encouraging who.

“Well,” Natsu broke in as they observed their magic’s antics, “at least the future won’t be boring.”

 

* * *

 

Not boring indeed.

Gray knew things would never be as they were, not with his new magick. Maybe he should have considered _how much_ things would change.

For one, his magick never gave him a dull moment.

Ice discovered that it liked to create, just like Ice Make. Once, it had constructed a hat for every member of Gray’s team: Gray sported a Robin Hood-esque hat complete with feather, Natsu had a wide and bedazzled sombrero, Happy preened over his bowler hat, Erza rocked a tri-corner, Lucy posed with her witch’s hat, Carla sniffed imperiously with her genie’s turban, and Wendy giggled at her paper sailboat hat. It had cheered all of them up immensely and would forever be one of Gray’s favorite memories with his new magick.

One particularly memorable occasion featured Ice, Natsu, and their first of many disagreements. Both had been trying to convince the other that their favorite animal was best. Penguins for Ice and, of course, dragons for Natsu. It had somehow turned physical and the fight ended with Ice blasting Natsu through a few trees. Ice had apologized by giving Natsu a gift. Which was a statue. Of a penguin. (Once Gray had finished laughing himself sick, the little penguin ice statue received a place of honor on their bookshelf next to Henrik's pocket watch and Mellie's bracelet).

Yet, as with all things in life, not every change was so lighthearted.

At first, people were hesitant in the face of his new, inhuman appearance. Unsure of how to talk to a person who looked so vastly different from how he had looked before, and having gained said new look from experiencing his magic dying and bonding to a primeval force of nature.

It took his guild some time. It took the other guilds a bit longer. It took Magnolia even longer than that.

Gray didn’t hold resentment towards any of them. He knew they didn’t mean their reactions maliciously. That didn’t mean the horrified glances or startled gasps didn’t hurt. But Natsu comforted him with his bright fire and protective love. Lucy steadied him with her earnest kindness. Erza shielded him with her stalwart friendship. His guild held on with a fierce loyalty. Ice stayed by his side throughout it all, always backing its mage with an encouraging chill.

Gray would forever cherish their devotion. He had needed their reassurance during that turbulent time.

Eventually, it got easier to look at his reflection in the mirror.

Eventually, he stopped waking up screaming from nightmares every time he slept.

The memories would never disappear, not completely, but they would fade. Fade, but still be there. Some things were worth not forgetting, good and bad.

Fairy Tail constructed a memorial for the fallen members of the Gypsy’s Hoard. It wasn’t much and outsiders, even those who fought with Fairy Tail, would likely never truly see it. But it was there; every Fairy Tail mage knew where and what it was. A little something to remember the ones who fell simply because they wanted to achieve a family member’s life dream. Small, because many would believe they should not be mourned. Created, because those mages had no one else; and if Fairy Tail didn’t mourn their passing, who would?

Gray was willing to remember those mages. Natsu had told him what Esmeralda had said, how she and her guild will never blame him for what happened to them.

He had been distraught to hear that they had _known_ they were heading to their deaths as they departed Magnolia. They had _known_ they were going to die because of Gray and they didn’t want him to blame himself because they didn’t.

Gray was always going to feel guilty for their deaths, as he did for Descartes’. That didn’t mean he was going to let their last sacrifices go in vain. He was going to live, live with the magick they had died for, and make his future something to be proud of.

And if he ever lost his way...

“Natsu,” Gray murmured, catching his boyfriend’s attention. They had been sitting on the railing of a bridge spanning the river, watching the sunset in a rare silence. “Where do we go from here?”

Natsu frowned as he tilted his head at Gray. “What do ya mean, Ice Princess?”

“I mean, we defeated Descartes. We lost the Gypsy’s Hoard, but we stopped a madman. My magic’s...gone,” Gray’s voice still cracked, “but I managed to bond with my new one. Everything’s so different, what do we do now?”

Natsu stared for a moment before snorting and rolling his eyes. “We do what we’ve always done, Snowflake,” he grabbed Gray’s hand, “we move forward!” He squeezed the freezing hand in his grasp. “So don’t think yourself into a twist and just go with it!”

Gray blinked then chuckled. “Yeah,” he refocused on the sunset, watching Ice and Dragon twist and twirl playfully around each other in the air, “okay.”

...someone will always be there to guide him back in the right direction.

 

_**~FIN~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's it. It's finally DONE. 
> 
> I apologize if it is a bit stilted and awkward, but I hope that it was satisfactory anyway.  
> I attempted to tie in everything in this story at the end, but I probably forgot some stuff ^^'  
> And since the story was rather serious for most of it, I also tried to bring some lightheartedness here in the end, because it IS supposed to be a happy ending. 
> 
> If there are any glaring errors, or parts that just sound too strange, please let me know. 
> 
> I really hope all of you who took the time to read this story were entertained by it. Thank you all so much for your time! I'll see you in my next installment :)


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